


Destiny Fulfilled

by blondsak, seekrest



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, F/M, Humor, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Peter Parker Acting as Miles Morales' Parental Figure, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Protective Peter Parker, buckle up my dudes we're in for a wild ride, take a chance on ussssssssss, the collab nobody asked for but everyone DESERVES
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-07-29 00:30:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 55,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20073169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak/pseuds/blondsak, https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest
Summary: "As long as I don’t let myself get too attached, things will be fine,” Peter says with a shrug. “It’s just another part of the superhero gig, nothing more.”From the look Happy gives him it’s clear his attempt at nonchalance failed.“Y’know, Tony said something very similar right before everything with the Vulture back in ‘17. So I’ll just tell you what I told him.”Peter raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?”Happy smirks. “Good luck with that, boss.”---15 years after the events of Far From Home, Peter Parker is struggling. Facing pressure to take over Stark Industries, a crumbling marriage, a very ill aunt, and a crime-boss with a vendetta, Peter has more than enough to deal with. He never expected to suddenly find himself mentoring a stubborn, determined, super-powered teenager on top of everything else.





	1. Before: Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! We decided to post this first chapter a bit early in honor of Spider-Man Day *thwip thwip*
> 
> This fic has been months in the making and we’re so excited to finally share it with you all. Buckle up kids, we’re in for a wild ride. 
> 
> Will update regularly on Sundays.
> 
> Come hang out with us on tumblr: [blondsak](https://blondsak.tumblr.com) and [seekrest](https://seek-rest.tumblr.com).

“Spider-Man’s name is Peter Parker.” 

_ WHAT THE FUCK.  _

Peter immediately feels the panic, the anger, the sheer and utter bewilderment that even though Beck was dead - he was still fucking up Peter’s life. 

He turns to the crowd, sees as people start to point their phones away from the screen and on to him. Peter faces Michelle, seeing the look on her face - one that has to mirror the one he has behind the mask. 

“Run! Okay? I’ll call you later.” Michelle shakes her head, taking a step forward. She goes to open her mouth but Peter stops her. 

“RUN. I’ll call you, I promise!” He doesn’t even wait to hear her answer before he sets a hand out, swinging away. 

He hated to leave Michelle, the action of it instantly filling him with regret but Peter’s thoughts immediately reverted to May. 

The last parental figure he had in his life, the only woman he’d really ever known as a mom. He couldn’t risk losing her. Michelle was his girlfriend -  _ were we really just on a date? Can I not have one moment of peace? _ \- but she could become invisible, could fade away into the crowd.

May Parker didn’t have that luxury. 

As Peter swung his arm out, willing himself to go faster, he hopes he can make it back to the apartment before it’s too late. 

* * *

“May!” Peter yells as he swings into his bedroom window, not even bothering to ditch his suit or change into normal clothes.

Beck had just outed his identity to the world. Peter had to get to May before something bad happened to her, before something else happened to someone he loved that he couldn’t be saved.

“MAY!” Peter whips his mask off, running out to the living room only to stop - frozen in place.

“Mr. Parker.”

“Fury? What are you doing here? I thought you were still in Europe?” The man stares at him, looking at him up and down. 

“It seems as if you have a bit of a situation on your hand, Parker.” Fury says, ignoring Peter’s question. May turns into the living room, the relief immediately washing over Peter. 

“May?”

“Oh my God, Peter are you okay? What is going on?” He rushes into her arms, holding tightly as May returns the embrace. 

_ She’s okay. She’s here. She’s okay. _

He leans out of it, head shaking. “I, I don’t know what happened. I didn’t, I didn’t do what the video said, May. He manipulated it, must’ve changed it.” 

“I know, Peter. I know, Mr. Fury here explained it to me but kid, come on-” May puts a hand to Peter’s face, Peter leaning in to the touch. “You know I’d never think you were capable of doing anything that… that jackass had said.” 

“Ms. Parker.” May nods, gripping Peter’s arms. 

“Right, right. Okay, Pete it’s time to go.” 

“G-go? Go where?” The confusion is immediate as he turns his head from May to Fury. 

“Your identity’s been outed, Parker. New York isn’t a safe place for you anymore.” May gives him a grim smile, nodding her head. 

“He’s right, kiddo. Mr. Fury here was apparently already on his way over here to debrief you on something when he heard the news. He’s already put in a few calls.” She loosens her grip, taking a deep breath.

“We need to leave, Peter. Now.” 

“I--I can’t, I can’t just  _ leave _ , May.” Peter is scrambling, his mind working in overdrive. He turns to Fury.

“Can’t you fix this? Put out a statement or a, a lawsuit or something? I’m a fucking minor.” 

“Peter.” He ignores May for a second, taking a step towards Fury. 

“This  _ is _ the way to fix it, Parker. The whole city’s going to be looking for you, the whole world soon enough. Our best bet is to get you and your aunt out of the city as quickly as possible, make you disappear. Then and only then, can we try and see how we can clear your name.”

The statement doesn’t register with Peter, him turning back to May. 

“I need to call Ned, MJ, let them know--” May’s face shifts into a look of remorse, Fury interjecting. 

“Absolutely not. Did you or did you not just understand me when I said that the goal here is to make you disappear?” 

Peter blinks. A beat. 

“We’re what?” 

“Pack your bags, Parker. We leave in five.” Fury turns, hand up to his ear as he calls someone. May puts a hand to his shoulder, Peter turning to face her. 

“May--”

“It’s the only way, kiddo.” Her voice wobbles, the reality of what Fury was saying finally sinking in. 

They had to leave. Both of them - immediately. Disappear. 

May would have to leave her job, her friends, Happy. And Peter would have to leave school, leave Ned, leave MJ… 

“Go pack, Pete. Come on, we gotta hurry.” May gently nudges him toward his room, Peter walking almost robotically to it before May speaks again.

“Leave the suit.” Peter stops, the shock settling in.

“What?”

“You can’t… you can’t take it with you, Pete.”

“But May--”

“Peter, please. Don’t make this harder than what it already is.” Her eyes are pleading with him, urging for him to understand. “I know this is hard, but we need to go Peter. I have to keep you safe.” 

Peter feels the sob building in his throat, the gravity of the situation finally crashing down on him. 

He was leaving New York. Leaving his best friend, his girlfriend, his entire life behind. 

And wherever he and May went - whatever Fury had planned for them - Peter was hit with the harsh realization that he wouldn’t be bringing Spider-Man with him either. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


ONE YEAR LATER

“Peter, are you up?” 

He blinks, looking up at the ceiling, watching as the fan in his room continues to circle over and over. 

“Peter!” He sighs, sitting up. He’d been awake for the past hour, hadn’t really slept at all. But that was normal for Peter now. 

_ Normal. That’s all I am now. _

“Peter.” May yells out once more, Peter lifting himself off the bed. 

“I’m up, May!” He yells back, grabbing a shirt from his bedroom floor. He sniffs it once before deciding it’s good enough, shoving it on. Peter grabs a pair of jeans, a pair of old sneakers. He’s dressed and in their small kitchen in a manner of minutes. 

“Answer me sooner next time kiddo, you know I can barely hear you in this house.” May sighs, handing him a breakfast bar. 

“I’m not really hungry, May.” 

“Yeah, Pete I know but you gotta eat something to tide you over till lunch alright? You’re too skinny these days.” She places a hand to his face, brushing some hair out of the way before she gives him a kiss on his forehead. 

Peter leans in to the gesture, watching as May turns back to getting her purse together. 

“You got another shift at Moe’s?” 

May nods, grabbing the last of whatever it is she was looking for. “Yeah, a double this time. It’ll be good money, give us a little cushion for next month.” 

She smiles at Peter, Peter recognizing that it doesn’t reach her eyes. 

“Have a good day, alright Pete? Love you.” She kisses him one last time, grabbing her car keys on the way out. 

“Love you too May,” Peter mutters, knowing May can’t hear him as she walks out the door and heads down their driveway. He knows that May has to hurry, can’t afford to be late again or risk facing the wrath of her uptight boss. 

It was a shitty waitress job, one that made Peter cringe to think that May “got an MBA from Stanford” Parker had to grovel for more hours from her tightwad of a boss Jerry. 

But this was her life now and she seemed - despite everything - determined to make the best of it. It was all Peter’s fault - he knew it, wallowed in it seemingly every moment - but May never made him feel that way. 

_ I’m sorry this is your life now. I’m sorry I fucked up. _

Peter’s apologies go nowhere, giving a deep sigh as he reaches for his backpack and heads out the door to walk out to the bus stop.  _ _

* * *

“Hey shithead, you need an invitation or what?” Peter turns, glancing at the wannabe athlete behind him.

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Dawson. Either move forward in the line or be moved alright?” Peter blinks, inwardly rolling his eyes if only to prevent another fight with this jackass. 

“Yeah, alright don’t get your panties in a wad.” He mutters, moving down the lunchline.

“What’d you say to me?”

“Nothing, Ray.” Peter sighs, grabbing a chocolate milk before moving away from the line and towards a table as far as possible from Ray and his band of idiots, a feat in and of itself considering the small lunch room. 

Peter plops down, glancing up to see if Ray and Mike or anyone else had followed him, but they hadn’t - only moved on to picking on some other kid by the french fries. 

May had already been getting on to him about the fights, both of them dancing around the fact that back in New York he hadn’t so much as gotten detention since sophomore year.

Peter clenched his fist, wishing that for once - just  _ once _ \- he could shut Ray up. His hand shakes, then Peter takes a deep breath. 

_ Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. _

He tries to imagine how things would be if he was back at Midtown, if this was happening. He can see it clear as day: MJ tossing out a witty insult at Ray and Mike’s expense, something that would go over both their heads, no doubt. He can almost feel Ned putting a hand on his shoulder, distracting him from his anger with thoughts of Legos, or classes, or Spider-Man...

A memory of Tony comes unbidden to his mind. Peter had been down in the compound lab with his mentor, telling him about his issues with Flash, how Peter had almost lost control and punched him earlier that week when the other teen made a comment about Peter being an orphan. How his fear of finally letting loose on the wrong person was still worrying him. 

Tony’s eyes had clouded over with anger at the story, but when he turned to Peter he’d only said, “The true test of being a superhero isn’t getting back at the bad guys, kid. It’s holding back when you want nothing more than to let loose. I’m proud of you, and I know you’ll never hurt anyone who doesn’t really deserve it. You’re too good for that bullshit.”

He closes his eyes, the memory of that time in his life - when his worst problem was a bully who was too much of a coward to ever actually fight him - paining him. He’d been such an idiot then, foolish. Naive even. 

And Tony? He had been naive to think so much of Peter too. But even knowing the truth, Peter still tried desperately to hold onto his mentor’s words, even if his belief in them slipped away like water through fingers with every passing day.

He still missed his mentor’s confidence in Peter’s character, his unshakeable faith that Peter would be - already was - the best of them all. 

Peter just missed  _ Tony _ .

Peter picks up a fork, moves around the greenish gray mush on his plate. 

There were a lot of things he missed about New York. A lot of places he still wished he could go. 

But he missed the people -  _ three _ people, even if one was lost to him forever - the most. 

* * *

The day droned on, Peter hardly paid attention in class.

Fury had given him strict instructions to blend in, not cause a scene.  _ Aim for average, Parker. _

So aim for average he did. 

He barely raised his hand, always sat in the back. The school wasn’t small enough that he could disappear completely - being in the middle of bumfuck Montana would do that for you - but his teachers had already given up on trying to get him to speak up. 

The story was that he and his mom were on the run from an abusive husband, his teachers having been told in the strictest confidence but of course, it got around. 

Peter hated the story, hated his life. May was the closest thing he had to a mom, that didn’t bother him, but the whispers he’d hear - the insinuation of May’s awful husband - nagged at Peter. 

Ben hadn’t been the terrible guy they were portraying him to be. And even if Peter knew that Ben wouldn’t mind - would agree right along with May that if it’s what was needed to keep Peter  _ safe _ , then it was worth it - it still bothered Peter all the same. 

* * *

He drifted in and out of paying attention for all his classes, not just for his intentional commitment to  _ be average _ but also since the curriculum at Midtown had been light-years ahead of whatever this school was doing. 

Anytime Peter wanted to complain, to whine about how unfair it all was, he’d remind himself that this was what was needed to keep him and May safe. To keep them protected. 

He wasn’t sure how Fury managed to make it so that no one in the town had heard the news, was forbidden from accessing social media or searching for himself on the internet. 

It was ridiculous really, asking someone his age to stay away from the internet like he did. It’s not like Fury would  _ know _ if he did, though Peter did wonder. But Peter still listened - didn’t dare disobey. 

As fucked up as his life was and as miserable as he was feeling, Peter didn’t dare risk putting May in danger. 

But he never stopped worrying about Ned and Michelle. 

* * *

“I’m just saying, I don’t understand the hype. Like we get it, he saved the universe or whatever but like, what does it even matter anymore?”

Peter closes his eyes, feeling the tension in his hands returning. 

_ Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. _

Some idiot from his high school was in the convenience store with him, Peter dropping in to pick up the milk he knew they were out of. Peter wished that if he had to live a life out in exile that he could at least be able to turn off his powers, be able to walk through a building without having to hear every waking detail of what each person was saying or doing. 

Peter willfully tries to ignore her and her stupid friend, heading to the back of the store. But Parker Luck - and his powers, no matter how underutilized - didn’t give him any breaks. 

“Tony Stark was a hero!”

“Yeah, he was also a war-profiteer and like, sold guns to terrorists.” 

“That was like ten years ago.” 

“Injustice never forgets, Shannon!” Peter rolls his eyes, slamming the refrigerator door harsher than he needs to. 

It was bad enough he and May were stuck in this hell hole. Bad enough that he was separated from his best friend and the girl he liked. 

Having to put up with this kind of small-town bullshit about Tony was the last straw. Peter turns, already formulating some kind of smart ass remark when the hair on the back of his neck raises, Peter immediately recognizing the sensation. 

He freezes, hears the bell on the door ring, the squeak of old combat boots on the dirty tile. Peter closes his eyes as the gun is cocked, already knowing it was probably aimed at the owner. He ducks down, scans the area around him. 

“PUT YOUR HANDS UP! GIVE ME YOUR MONEY!” The thief yells out, Peter hearing the whimpers of the idiot girls in the aisle. 

_ Stay down, stay down, stay down. _

“Don’t hurt us!” Peter groans, glancing down to where they are. The girls had put their hands up, the owner of the convenience store shouting out at the guy. 

“Don’t hurt them, I’ll--I’ll give you whatever you want.” 

The guy with the gun sneers at the girls, turning to the owner. 

“You bet your ass you will, or you’ll have a clean up on aisle seven.” He laughs at his terrible joke, the owner joining him. 

Everything within Peter is screaming at him, telling him to do something. Interject. Save the day.

_ Calm down. Calm down. Calm down.  _

_ Aim for average. Keep your head down. Don’t cause a scene. _

As the owner frantically works to get the money out of the cash drawer, the girls still whimpering, Peter wishes - for the thousandth time today alone - that this wasn’t his life. That he wasn’t here. 

He could take the guy out in half a heartbeat, snap the gun out of his hand and knock the guy out cold in two seconds flat. 

But  _ Peter _ couldn’t do that - not here, not ever again. He wasn’t Peter Parker.

He wasn’t Spider-Man anymore. 

The time it takes for the owner to get the money is a few seconds too long. 

“Hurry up dipshit!” Peter glances down the aisle, just out of view to see the guy pointing the gun right at the owner’s head. He can hear the heartbeat of the owner - thundering and loud - and can see the way his hand shakes as he rustles through the cash register. 

He was terrified. 

_ He should be. _ Peter thinks bitterly, wondering if shit really went down if he could actually step in. 

Of course he would. He had to. Peter had promised himself that after Ben, after Tony - he’d never let another person die in front of him. 

But he also knew Fury’s warnings were real, knew that he’d immediately put not just himself - but May - at risk. 

Peter knew what he had to do. But he also hoped it wouldn’t come to that. 

He hears the sickening thud of the gun knocked against the owner’s head. Peter braces himself, poised and ready when the guy points the gun to the owner again.

“I said HURRY UP.” 

Peter’s hands are shaking now, the tension and the adrenaline running through him. 

_ I have to do something. I have to do something. I have to do something. _

.

.

.

_ I can’t. _

Peter winces at his cowardice, inwardly berates himself as he watches as the owner takes the last of his cash out and shoves it the guy’s way. 

“Take it! That’s all!” The guy with the gun sniffs, sneers as he looks around the store. 

“Call the cops and I’ll come back. And this time, I won’t be so friendly.” 

As the guy leaves, the girls immediately bursting into tears as he walks out, Peter wishes again that he wasn’t here in this middle of nowhere town. 

Because if he couldn’t face a nameless thug in the middle of nowhere, how the hell was he ever going to be able to handle being Spider-Man again, when the time came? 

As the girls cry and the owner tries to console them, Peter sinks to the floor, staring at the dairy products. 

_ Maybe I’ll never be Spider-Man again after all.  _

* * *

May wasn’t home when he arrived back, causing Peter a moment of panic before he remembered what she’d said earlier about working doubles.

He spends the next few hours moping around the house. 

Peter had nothing to do, was forbidden from even getting a job. Some shit that Fury had mentioned, arguing that while he was able to swing May’s employment, that putting Peter out there would make them at risk for discovery.

Peter thought it was bullshit, but he didn’t argue. Didn’t put up a fuss about a lot of things, knowing it was all done in the interest of keeping him and May safe. 

_ When will it ever be enough? _

In the hours and hours that Peter spent alone, his mind always wandered back to the people he’d left behind. 

He’d wonder about Pepper and Morgan, if their plans back to the city had fallen through or not.

He wondered about Happy, how he was dealing not only with the loss of his oldest friend but May, his maybe/almost girlfriend. 

Peter winces, his mind inevitably going to his own love life. 

He missed Michelle more than he ever thought possible. Missed her so much that it felt like he couldn’t breathe. He’d had less than a day of happiness with her, one impossibly short week of trying to spend time with her, only for her to have almost died. She hadn’t, neither had he. 

And then it had all to completely gone to hell. 

Peter misses Ned, he thinks most of all. 

Ned had been his best friend for over a decade. The first person he had ever really trusted with Spider-Man. It felt wrong, not to talk to Ned - like Peter’s mind was out of sorts. 

He had least had promised Michelle he’d call - had at least seen her the day he disappeared from New York. 

Peter’s last text to Ned had been about his lost luggage. 

It’s agonizing to Peter, to think of the life and the people he left behind. 

He missed them. Missed everything about them.

And what was worse is that he didn’t know if they missed him at all. 

* * *

It’s a spiral of bad decisions. 

First, he breaks cardinal rule #1: he searches the internet for news about Spider-Man. 

There’s nothing, at least on him. Fury and his team had been effective at whatever they had planned. The only articles coming up had to do with the sudden disappearance of the Spider-Man, the comments filled with people asking about the loss of their hero. 

That was the first mistake. 

The second is that he searches for Ned and MJ on social media, even glancing through Flash’s Instagram for any semblance of normalcy. 

None of them seem to have posted anything in the year after Peter had disappeared, save for Flash’s near constant selfies. There was no mention of Spider-Man, or at least - of Peter Parker - but Peter didn’t really care about Flash’s adoration.

He just wanted to know how his friends were doing. 

That was the second mistake. 

By the time midnight rolled around, May still out at work - Peter reached his last and final mistake. 

He called them. 

* * *

It was a stupid decision, one of the stupidest ideas he’d ever had. But Peter was already on a downward spiral, already on a path he couldn’t shy away from. 

He called Ned first. 

He knew both of their numbers by heart, having committed it to memory as a personal challenge when he and Ned had read some article saying that people his age didn’t know numbers. 

As the line rings, there’s a part of him that wonders if Ned had changed his number. 

_ He wouldn’t do that. Not to me. _

But then Peter had left Ned without so much as a goodbye, without even seeing him one last time. 

He’s not surprised that Ned doesn’t answer - especially from an unknown number with an area code he likely didn’t recognize - but Peter can’t help but feel a twinge in his heart all the same.

He starts to dial Michelle’s number before pausing, really considering what he was doing. 

_ Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. _

But he can’t, Peter’s too far gone - obsessed with knowing if someone, anyone, from his past life was okay. If they were alive. 

If they missed him just as viscerally and as miserably as he missed them. 

The phone rings once. Twice. A third time. 

And then a voice Peter thought he’d never hear again comes through the speaker, ringing out clear as day.

“Peter?” 

* * *

Peter holds his breath, the relief and the panic flowing through him simultaneously. Relief - because it was Michelle,  _ Michelle _ and just hearing her voice warmed Peter’s insides in a way he hadn’t even realized. 

Panic because he wonders if he somehow had called using a number she’d recognize, had in some way given himself away. And then it hits him. It’s after midnight in Montana, past two in New York. Michelle had likely been asleep, but answered the phone anyway.

What hits at Peter isn’t just that she answered the phone, isn’t even that for the first time in a year he feels like he can finally  _ breathe _ \-- it’s the knowledge that Michelle had answered the phone, immediately thinking - hoping, believing - that any unknown number that called her had been Peter. 

“I’m sorry it took so long.” 

“What?” The confusion and sleepiness in her voice is evident, now that Peter’s listening for it. “Peter, is that you?”

“Yeah, yeah it is.” He laughs, feeling tears starting to form.

“Oh my God, Peter. Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, MJ I’m... “ Peter swipes a tear, closing his eyes. “It’s so good to hear your voice. I’m sorry it took so long to call.” 

The other end of the line is silent for a moment, enough for Peter to check and see if the call dropped. But then Michelle speaks up.

“You promised that you would.” 

Peter smiles, feeling himself relax. 

“Yeah, I did.” 

* * *

He talks to Michelle for almost two hours. He hears when May comes in from work, has Michelle stay quiet when May inevitably comes into his room to check on him. After he’s sure that she’s gone to bed, he and Michelle continue. 

It’s as if nothing has happened, as if no time has passed at all. The awkwardness had been there at first, before melting away into something comfortable and easy. He had missed talking to Michelle so much, and even if Ned didn’t get to pick up, Peter hears all about him through Michelle. 

Peter learns people debated whether the DailyBugle.net was even a legitimate source, if the lack of evidence supporting Mysterio as a hero was really worth disregarding the years Peter had allegedly served as Spider-Man.

But since Peter had effectively disappeared off the face of the planet - the story of Peter Parker being Spider-Man seemed to fade as another news story, save for the random conspiracy theories on the internet. 

After awhile, Michelle and Peter fall into a comfortable silence - having everything and nothing still to share. 

“You should go to bed, MJ. You’ve been up for hours.”

“It’s okay, Peter.”

“No, no. I… I kept you up too late.” He smiles as Michelle tries and fails to stifle a yawn. 

“Are you going to call back? Can I call you?” 

Peter thinks, knowing this had been a snap decision to begin with - a quick one that he couldn’t make himself regret. 

“Yeah, I’ll--I’ll call you back tomorrow. Or I guess, later tonight? Around six your time?”

Michelle yawns again. “Promise?”

Peter nods, even knowing she can’t see it. “Yeah, MJ. I promise.” 

They hang up, Peter staring up at the ceiling. He drifts off to sleep almost immediately, feeling lighter than he has in months. 

* * *

The following day can’t pass quickly enough for Peter. 

Usually, the days all seem to blend together, monotonous in their consistency. But for the first time in ages, Peter has something to look forward to. He taps his fingers in class, even smiles when he walks down the hallway, much to the surprise of some of his classmates. 

He can’t help it, it’s as if his entire being radiates with energy; talking with MJ, the possibility of getting to talk to her again. He hopes that maybe if this works out, maybe they could even do a three-way call with Ned. The very idea of it makes Peter’s heart soar. 

Peter races off the bus and towards the front door, a bundle of nerves and excitement even if it’s still hours before he’s supposed to call Michelle. 

The hours pass by quickly, but not quick enough. He flies through his homework, what little he had deigned to take down before, motivated for the first time in months. He picks up around the house, washes the dishes, even cleans his room. 

His hands shake, his whole body radiating with anticipation at the thought of calling Michelle again. It’s a reminder that before this - before Beck - he’d had a life. It almost reminds him of how he had felt in the days leading up to his trip. 

Peter watches the clock, tapping his leg up and down as he sits on his made bed. Phone in hand, willing for the time to move faster - but for a good reason. 

It’s been months since Peter’s felt anything resembling hope and now that he’s tasted it, now that it’s  _ just _ in his grasp, Peter wonders how the hell he had gone without it for so long. 

The clock switches, his alarm going off almost immediately. He dismisses, laughing at himself. To think that he wouldn’t have the time he was supposed to call Michelle seared into his memory. 

He brings the phone to his ear, waiting as the line on the other end rings. 

It rings. And rings. And rings. 

_ “If you’re calling me, it’s because I asked you to. If I didn’t answer, it’s because I didn’t. Hang up and text me, I don’t check voicemails.”  _

Peter laughs at her voicemail message, ending the call as he taps out a quick text. 

“Hey, it’s me. Calling you again.” Peter watches as the message sends, waiting five seconds before trying to call again. 

It rings. And rings. And rings. 

_ “If you’re calling me, It’s beca---” _ Peter hangs up, frowning. He double-checks the time, searching the internet to make sure he hadn’t miscalculated New York to Montana time. 

No, everything’s right. Michelle’s just not picking up. 

_ Weird. _ Peter calls again, a low sense of dread forming in the pit of his stomach. 

It rings. And rings. And rings.

_ “If you’re calling--” _ Peter hangs up, immediately on edge. 

Michelle wouldn’t have ditched him, wasn’t the kind of person to just  _ forget _ something like this. The dread starts to twist into something more sinister for Peter, a foreboding that he can’t escape. 

_ It’s fine. She’s probably just busy. It’s nothing. It’s nothing. _

Peter suddenly thinks of Fury’s warnings when he first moved to Montana, the thinly veiled threat that if he so much as contacted his friends that it would be putting them at risk. Peter had listened, so panicked and terrified of doing anything that would have inadvertently caused them or May harm. 

It’d been a year since then, a year of soul-sucking and dull monotony that for just one brief moment, Peter had let himself break.

Now, clutching his phone in his hands, a cold sweat starts to break over him. 

_ What the hell was I thinking? _

He can’t think of what to do, other than to search her social media - to see if that would give any clue to what she was doing or why she may have missed his calls. It wasn’t anything bad, it was just a misstep. Michelle had just gotten caught up with something. 

_ Right? _

Peter scans her pages, stomach dropping as he scrolls through. Her parents had posted a new status update on all of them, saying she’d been reported missing. Michelle had been tagged in a few posts, signal boosts from people he recognized from school that Michelle had never made it to class - was thought to have been abducted on her way to school. 

The sharp and sudden panic that crawls up his back is immobilizing, Peter suddenly feeling like he can’t breathe. 

_ What the fuck did I do? Was this me?  _

Peter panics. 

* * *

A bus will take two days. He can’t walk. Peter is panicking, scrambling for what to do. He digs through May’s belongings, finding a credit card she’d stashed for emergencies. 

He knows this is wrong, knows that the right thing to do is to call May - contact Fury - see what can be done. 

But doing that would mean he’d have to admit that he fucked up, would have to come to grips with the fact that he had done the very thing everyone had told him  _ not _ to do. 

Peter buys the ticket, hopes to anyone who will listen that he can make it to New York in time before anything bad happens. Because the dread in his stomach keeps building, the agony and threat of what contacting Michelle meant pounding into him. 

  
_ I’m coming, MJ. _


	2. Before: Part 2

Three hours later, Peter’s on a plane to New York. He’d written a note for May, had barely made it through airport security without panicking - begging that the forged ID that had aged him up actually worked until it did. Peter’s hands haven’t stopped shaking since he first called Michelle, the middle-aged man sitting next to him giving him a side glance as the plane takes off.

Perhaps it’s because his body recognizes how close he is to a panic attack over Michelle, but Peter finds his thoughts straying over and over again to Tony as he stares out the window, the clouds beneath floating far too languidly - almost mocking him as his panic overwhelms him.

God, not since the funeral had he missed Tony as much as he did in this moment. Because Tony always knew what to do, Tony always had a plan B. 

If Tony was here, Peter wouldn’t be alone on a plane, headed home for the first time in a year. 

If Tony was here, Michelle would probably already be safe at home again, albeit pissed off at Peter for making that stupid call to begin with.

In the last year Peter had done his best not to think about _ what-ifs _, but now his brain was filled with them. Because what else would be different right now if Tony hadn’t died? 

There was _ no way _ the man would have let Fury send him away, Peter knows that beyond all doubt. Not after Tony had confronted the very real chance of losing his daughter - not to mention working alongside his ex-teammates - to bring Peter back. 

Hell, if Tony hadn’t died, Peter might never have even met Mysterio, might not have had his identity revealed in such a dangerous, foolhardy way. There would have been no reason for Peter to call Tony to help save Michelle, because Michelle wouldn’t be in danger to begin with.

A rush of righteous anger rises from the pit of his stomach at the unfairness of it all, Peter gripping his armrests so tightly he leaves indents in the plastic. But his rage is instantly doused by five words he’s thought far too many times in the past eighteen months.

_ This is all my fault _.

Because really, whose fault is it that Tony was even dead in the first place? 

If Peter had pulled the gauntlet off of Thanos’ arm on Titan, this whole nightmare could have all been avoided. If he’d just had the courage to put the gauntlet on himself when he was cradling the damn thing in the ruins of the compound, Tony would now be at the lake home with his wife and daughter, retired and content.

But no, Peter had been weak, a coward - and Tony had paid the price.

Tony’s death, Peter’s identity being revealed, the all-too-real chance that Michelle is hurt and trapped at this very moment… ultimately, it’s all Peter’s fault. If Tony could see him now, Peter thinks, he’d be so disappointed. Tony probably wouldn’t even be able to look at him, wouldn’t be able to do more than say - 

“You alright, kid?” 

In the instant before Peter whips his head around from staring out the window, he almost believes it’s Tony, come back to save him from this nightmare. Instead he finds only the man he’d been sitting next to him for the entire flight, the one who had looked at him in concern when they first lifted off the ground.

Peter opens his mouth, then closes it again. The man gives him a funny look, nodding at the rows of empty seats ahead. “We’ve landed, you see?”

And just like that, all thoughts of Tony and Peter’s own crippling guilt fade from his mind, melting away at the horror that brought him back to New York in the face place.

Michelle was missing. 

Michelle could be in trouble.

_ I’m coming, MJ. _

* * *

He flies through the airport, a barely contained jog that’s met with bewildered looks in LaGuardia. Peter’s outside of the airport, mind reeling. 

He’s here. He’s in New York. The city smells of grime, grease and sweat, the sounds of it loud and obnoxious to Peter’s senses. He’d forgotten how loud the city was, the quiet and relative calm of Montana having been an unasked-for balm. 

It does nothing to quiet the pounding of Peter’s heart in his hears, the panic bubbling on the inside of him. He’s in New York. Michelle is missing.

_ What the hell am I supposed to do now? _

Peter dials Michelle’s phone again, his mind drawing a complete blank as the anxiety of what Michelle being missing could mean. 

It rings. And rings. And rings.

And then picks up.

“MJ? MJ, are you there? Are you okay?” 

“Hello Spider.” 

The panic in his stomach bottoms out, Peter’s hands shaking as he clutches the phone.

“Who is this? What the hell have you done with MJ?” 

The voice on the other hand laughs, Peter wracking his memory to try and place it. 

“How could you forget me, Spider? Don’t you remember our little tussle at the docks?” Peter’s mind draws a blank, the voice on the other end pausing. 

“Let me refresh your memory then. Toomes. The ferry. Your little stunt cost me my eye and a stint in Rikers.” 

The memory of his failure at the ferry is immediate, Peter still not being able to place the man on the other line. All he can think of are menacing glares, guys who tried and failed to shoot at him. Whoever it is doesn’t seem to care if he does, continuing. 

“Doesn’t matter now, Spider. I got what you want. The girl, MJ is it?” 

“Where is she?” Peter sneers, the panic turning into full-on rage. He’d fucked up, calling Michelle. But he’ll be damned if he lets yet another one of his seemingly endless fuck-ups messes up her or anyone else’s life. 

“As I said before, _ Peter. _” Peter stills, the knowledge that whoever was on the other line not only had MJ, but knew his name, “We met on the docks. I say we end this on the docks. Be there before sunset, or you’ll never see your girl again.” 

The line clicks. 

Peter runs. 

* * *

He didn’t have his web shooters with him, Fury had long confiscated them when he had gone into hiding, made clear and evident that he wasn’t to make any new ones under any circumstances.

Peter curses himself, wishes he hadn’t been so eager to do whatever Fury had asked. The old him would’ve had saved some somewhere, would’ve created a backup in class. 

But instead, here he was - running, panicking through the subway and through the streets as he tried to make it to the Staten Island Ferry. The sun is going down and he’s barely halfway there, Peter panicking at the idea that he won’t make it on time. 

_ I’m coming, MJ. I’m coming. _

* * *

It’s dark by the time he makes it to the docks, Peter’s senses are going haywire. He knows that he’s likely walking into some kind of trap, but all he can focus on is the idea that Michelle is here - being kept against her will by some monster with a vendetta against him. Peter takes a deep breath, tries to focus on the area around him. 

_ Where are you? _

He glances around the docks, sees a warehouse that looks empty and dark. His senses are ringing, a distinct and sharp motivation to _ GET AWAY. _

Peter takes this as a sign that this is where he needs to go. 

He cautiously walks into the building, eyes trying and failing to adjust to the lack of light. There’s only one, a spotlight illuminating a figure in the distance. 

Peter freezes, tenses until he recognizes who it is. 

Because there she is - Michelle. 

The relief is instantaneous, even as Michelle looks exhausted, tied up and gagged against a chair. 

“MJ?” Her head snaps up, Peter immediately registering the look of panic in her eyes. Her whole body seemed to shake with something, fear or panic Peter doesn’t know - he can’t escape the ringing in his ears, the immediate and overwhelming relief that she’s _ alive _. 

Peter rushes forward, recognizing Michelle’s head is shaking furiously, the panic in her eyes inescapable.

It all starts to go in slow motion.

Peter’s feet are rushing forward, his hand out as he tries to reach her. His senses are magnified, ringing and abrasive in his ear but he dismisses it, thinking that it’s only the intensity, the anxiety and pressure of the situation he’s in. 

He sees the tears in Michelle’s eyes, sees them widening as Peter makes his way forward. Peter can feel the trip wire right after he’s stepped through it, a half-second too late to do anything but stop and watch in horror at what happens next. 

The snap of the gunshot echoes in the dark and empty warehouse, the splatter of red that follows immediate and horrifying. 

Peter freezes, mouth open and hand outstretched as he watches Michelle’s body slump forward. 

* * *

Panic. Immediate, swelling and unadulterated panic. 

“MJ!” Peter screams, running forward, his hand reaching up to catch her, to push her back into the chair that had been holding her. 

Peter is panting, a hand out to steady her head which lolls backwards, the look on her face sending Peter into a downward spiral.

_ Michelle _. It’s Michelle. Her eyes are open, blank and unfeeling - the sinking horror of what happened closing in on him. 

It’d been a trap. Of course it had, but not for Peter.

For Michelle.

She’d been pleading with him, begging him to stop - shaking and crying in her last moments as a way to warn him as he rushed forward, not even thinking. His senses had tried to warn him, Michelle had done everything she could.

But with the sickening way her head fell backwards, Peter’s hands trembling as he held her up, Peter suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. 

“MJ? MJ, come on, come on. Wake up.” He blinks, realizing in horror that Michelle is not, the reality of what was in front of him hitting him in waves. He keeps a hand to the back of Michelle’s head, ignoring the hot and sticky liquid that was forming over it, as he snapped the ropes that held her with the other. 

Michelle crumples in his arms, falling over as Peter holds her, crouching down to the ground. He holds her in his arms, trembling as he looks at her face.

Michelle. It’s Michelle. 

His eyes are open, empty - staring right into Peter’s and yet he knows with a stunning and horrifying clarity that Michelle’s eyes aren’t seeing anything at all. A sob breaks out of his mouth, Peter’s hands shaking as he brings her close. 

“MJ? Come on, MJ please. Please. Michelle…” He brings a hand to her face, a shudder as he realizes that both of his hands were red. 

_ Blood. _

_ Oh God. _

“MJ, please. Please, I need you to wake up. Please, please wake up. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Peter’s sobs are the only sound in the warehouse, echoing and reverberating throughout the dark and lonely room. He brings her closer to him, cradling her head to his chest as he rocks back and forth.

Agonizing. Relentless. The pain and the grief wash over him again and again.

He did this. _ He _ did this. He should’ve never called her, should’ve stayed in his miserable fucking life in Montana and done what he was told.

Why, why, _ why _ couldn’t he have just listened? Why had he called her? Why did he put her in danger? 

Peter is inconsolable, letting the agony pierce at him as he runs another hand through Michelle’s hair. 

_ He did this. He did this. It’s his fault. It’s all his fault. _

She’s dead. Michelle is dead. And he’d been too late to stop it. 

And then suddenly, like a strike of lightning, Peter’s eyes snap open - the realization cutting at him.

_ He knows who I am. _

Whoever had done this, whoever had kidnapped Michelle, had been waiting for Peter. Searching for him. He’d found her in less than a day, abducted her in broad daylight. 

Peter had been so panicked - terrified - of not making it to Michelle in time that his mind hadn’t even wandered to Ned, to May - to anyone else he knew that could be in danger. His hands are still trembling, his mind racing - wracked with grief.

There’s nothing he can do. He’d fucked up again, and now she was dead. Michelle was _ dead _, he hadn’t been quick enough to stop it. If he just hadn’t called her, if he could only go back, tell himself not to pick up the phone, if only he could---

And then it hits him.

_ Time. _

If he could go back, he could fix this. He could make it so none of this happened. 

He chokes back another sob, forcing himself to look at Michelle’s slack face once more, his resolve breaking as he searches her empty eyes. Peter brings a trembling hand to them, softly closing them before bringing a kiss to her forehead. 

Peter removes the restraints around her, gingerly picking her up and then carefully letting her down to the floor, barely holding back the tears as he pushes back some of her hair.

“Don’t worry, MJ. Don’t worry, okay? I’m gonna, I’m gonna fix this. I promise. I’m going to fix this.” 

She looks as if she’s sleeping now, the tears blurring his vision as he gets up and takes a step back.

Whoever the hell had taken her was gone, had likely never planned on showing in the first place. But he knew who Peter was - knew who Peter loved. 

He takes another step back, the resolve building with him. 

Peter has to fix this. He has to change this. It breaks him to leave her, but if this works - _ God, I hope it works _ \- then none of this will have ever happened. 

Peter turns. 

And runs. 

* * *

“Open up! Please, Doctor Strange are you there? Open up!” Peter is pounding at the door, pleading to be let in. He’s not sure if anyone’s home, the building looking dark and looming in the night sky. But Peter is relentless, the alternative being an untouchable possibility.

Michelle was _ dead _, Peter had left her - caused her to die. He couldn’t let it stand, couldn’t allow this to be the reality he had to live with. The thought of it made his stomach recoil, the sheer agony of his own failure rattling around in his brain. He goes to pound on the door again when suddenly the door in front is gone, Peter thrust into a room.

He whirls around, sees Strange there.

“Peter.” 

“Doctor Strange, please. You have to help me, I--”

Strange rushes forward, gripping Peter’s hands. Peter glances down, realizing for the first time how much blood - _ Michelle’s blood _ \- had stained his clothes. He had gotten strange looks on the street, the cabby giving him the once over but Peter had been relentless, focused on one thing and one thing alone.

“Are you hurt?” 

“No, I--”

“This is too much blood, Peter. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.” 

“Strange, you have to listen to me, I’m not--” Strange’s eyes are everywhere, his hands turning Peter’s over as he scans them. He looks into Peter’s face. 

“What did you do?” 

And with that, Peter sobs, crumbling into Strange’s unsuspecting but welcome arms. 

* * *

“I cannot do what you’ve asked, Peter.” 

“You don’t understand,” Peter takes a step forward, his eyes pleading. 

“Please, you-- you have to let me fix this. I can’t--” Peter gasps, “I can’t let this be real. This can’t, this can’t be real.” 

Strange purses his lips, bringing a hand to them as he thinks. 

He’d let Peter cry in to his arms just a few moments before, waiting until they had somewhat subsided before questioning him what was wrong. 

As Peter had choked it out, Strange’s eyes had widened before turning to remorse. But he seemed firm. 

“I’m sorry, Peter. I can’t--”  
  
“Bullshit, Strange.” Peter’s grief turns to rage in a heartbeat, the panic of what Strange was saying sinking in. “Please, please… _ please _ don’t let me do this. I can’t, I can’t live with myself. Not this. Not again, not after Uncle Ben and, and T-Tony. Please Strange.” 

He closes the distance between them, Peter’s hand extended until the visual of it reminds him too much of his attempt to save Michelle, causing him to recoil. 

Strange notices the reaction, Peter taking another shaky breath. 

“Please fix this. Please. I’m begging you. I’ll do anything. _ Anything. _” 

Strange’s eyes turn into one of sorrow, closing as Peter watches. For a moment Peter holds his breath, not ready to face the real and horrifying possibility that Strange is about to send him away to have to confront the agony of what he’d done, what he’d caused. 

Strange surprises him with the next words out of his mouth.

“I’ll do it.” 

* * *

“Remember Peter, this is one time and one time only.” Peter nods, Strange waving his hands around the time stone. 

“I cannot promise you that the outcome will will result any differently. I can only promise that I can send you far back enough that if - and only _ if _ \- you are able to make different decisions, it will not turn out as it has in this one.” Strange looks at Peter, his look firm and serious. 

“You understand what this means?” Peter just nods, but Strange is insistent.

“Say it back to me, Peter. I need you to understand what you’re doing, what you’re asking.” 

“If you send me back, this is it. It’s erasing this and giving me a redo, like a loop. But you’re sending me back far enough so that I can avoid all of…” Peter trails off, the horrifying visual of Michelle’s slumped body passing over him. 

“Avoid everything.” Peter swallows, willing his eyes back to Strange. Strange gives a short nod, seemingly satisfied with the answer. 

An idea comes to Peter then. “Can you - can we avoid… can Mr. Stark-”

“No,” Strange answers sharply, cutting him off before he can even finish voicing the thought. “That outcome, unfortunate as it was, is essential to this timeline. Changing it is out of the question.”

Peter nods slowly. Part of him wants to argue, but a much larger part of him is too terrified that if he presses, Strange will change his mind completely. Peter can’t risk letting that happen, not when Michelle’s life hangs in the balance too.

“No one else will know of the change, Peter. No one else _ can _ know. You will essentially be reliving your life. You understand this?” Peter nods, any guilt or residual concern over what he’s doing immediately removed as he considers Michelle - her eyes open, her blood that stained his clothes. 

“It is to your detriment, Peter. Time loops are fickle and in many ways, time has a way of fighting back against changes. You understand me, Peter?” Peter looks up at him, nodding grimly. 

He couldn’t let this reality be real. He had to change it. He’d do anything. 

“Do it.” 

Strange moves his hands around, the room swirling in a haze of green and gold. 

And then it switches.

In one moment, Peter is looking into Strange’s eyes and in the next, he’s staring at his bedroom wall.

Peter blinks, but before he gets the chance to look around, he’s hit in the jaw with something. 

He immediately turns, and sees May as she laughs, bringing a hand to her mouth.

“Oh, I thought you could sense that with your... “ She snaps her fingers, “Peter tingle!” 

Peter feels his shoulder shake, the relief sudden and immediate. May’s face turns from one of laughter to confusion. 

“Pete? What’s wrong? You can dodge bullets but not bananas?” He knows the words she’s saying, recognizes that the tone is different but all Peter can think of is that _ it worked _. 

Strange had done it. 

He glances around his crowded and cramped room, shaking his head in disbelief. It’s the same, the cramped and half-unpacked boxes strewn about everywhere, Ben’s suitcase open on his bed. Peter turns back to May, her face still questioning.

“Peter?” 

His eyes widen, the hope jumping into his throat. 

“I gotta go.” 

* * *

He had thrown on his suit in a heartbeat, swinging out as quickly as he could. May had tried to stop him but he’d placated her, told her he’d be right back.

  
He had to get to Michelle. He had to see her. 

Peter rushes to her apartment building, landing right outside her bedroom window. 

And there she is. Michelle, seemingly doing the same thing _ he _had been doing not five minutes ago - packing for Europe.

He taps on the window, Michelle freezing. She steps towards the window, opening it up.

“Hello?”

“Can I come in?”

She pauses then nods, backing up so Peter can swing in. He rips off his mask, Michelle’s eyes widening.

“You’re--”

“Yeah, I know. I know you know. Or, you figured it out. I, I guess.” Peter’s stammering, laughing. He can’t believe it, can’t believe it’s real. 

Michelle is here. _ Alive. _ Breathing in front of him, even if she looks confused as hell. 

“Peter, what are you--” He cuts her off, wrapping his arms around her tightly. Michelle stiffens for a second before melting into it, tentatively placing her arms around him.

Peter know she has a million things to explain, knowing from Strange’s warning that he can’t explain it all. 

He’d be damned if he went to Europe. Would give Fury hell for trying to bug him. He’d deal with Beck later, call Happy and figure out some way to fix the problem that had wrecked his life before it had even began.

But in this moment - holding Michelle, Michelle who is breathing, Michelle who is _ alive _ \- Peter closes his eyes, lets himself relax. 

* * *

FIFTEEN YEARS LATER

Peter sends out a web, swinging aimlessly around the city. He’s gotten used to the quiet by now, neither EDITH nor Karen serving as background chatter to his treks across the city. 

It had been a rash decision at first, but Peter hadn’t regretted it. He half-heartedly smiles to himself under his mask. 

Of all the things Peter did regret in the fifteen years since he’d asked Strange to change things, turning off his AI as he swung through the city had not been one of them. 

_ Well, sixteen. _ Peter thought to himself, softly landing on the rooftop. It was still a mess for him to think about, the change that Strange had done - the gift he’d given him. 

Strange had allowed him one chance to make a loop, to undo his mistakes that had led to Michelle’s death. He’d lost five years in the Blip, lost another in Montana - only to be sent back as if nothing had changed. 

The memory of that awful night, a nightmare of a reality that’s faded from existence, still lingers around Peter - even though in that moment, Michelle walks out of her apartment’s entrance. 

Peter leans in, heart constricting at the sight of her. Still. Relentless, the relief he feels at seeing her alive - no matter where they were currently - is still overwhelming to him. 

His hand automatically goes for his phone to reach out to her, still - even if he’d moved out six months ago. Peter brings his hand back down, can only watch as Michelle makes her way down the street. 

_ Where did we go wrong? _

_ Where did I go wrong? _

Peter sighs, knowing that if he let himself dwell too much on his failures that it would send him into a spiral he would have to crawl out of. He shakes his head, takes a deep breath and sends a hand out. 

As he swings again through the city, the wind whipping around him, Peter focuses his mind instead on getting to Calvary Hospital in time for visiting hours. 

Peter’s habit of being late for nearly every one of his appointments hasn’t changed. 

But he won’t be late to this one.


	3. Drifting

“Parker?”

Peter lifts his head up, eyes meeting the nurse’s tired eyes.

“She’ll see you now.” Peter nods as he lifts himself up off the creaky hospital chair. It was a nice facility, one of the best - and yet Peter still found himself always sitting in the oldest, noisiest chairs. 

He follows the nurse down the familiar hallway, giving small nods to the other nurses as he passes by.

He hates hospitals, always has – even before the bite that dialed up his senses.

The smell of the antiseptic. The simultaneous quiet of a lonely hall and the mindless chattering in a waiting room.

When he was young, when his world’s biggest problem had been accidental broken bones – Peter had thought that cold, quiet hospital rooms were the scariest places imaginable.

Maybe they had been once, before the world had ended. Before  _ his _ world had ended. 

Peter almost laughs to himself, thinking of how innocent he’d once been. How small his problems had been.

He follows the nurse to the room he knew well, fixing into his face into a smile.

“Peter?”

He brings the flowers he’d been carrying up to his face as he steps in, the nurse quietly making her way out.

“Hey May.” 

* * *

Months. Peter should’ve known the universe would never give him enough time. 

_ Would there ever be enough time? _ He thinks to himself, watching May as she smells the flowers, humming with pleasure at the soft scents. 

Peter had been through so much in his life. 

The death of his parents. Ben. A snap that erased him - and billions of others - from existence.

The death of Tony. 

The death of Michelle, no matter how quickly it’d been undone. 

Yet Peter wondered if this would finally be the thing that sent him over the edge.

Watching as May, the woman who had been more of a mother to him than his own mother had even had the chance to be, slowly fade away. 

He absent-mindedly plays with his wedding ring as he thinks, missing the fact that May had been speaking to him. Peter’s head snaps up, eyes meeting May’s warm and concerned gaze.

“Sorry May, what was that?”

“I asked what was going on in that head of yours, Peter.” She sets the bouquet down on the side table and gestures to his hands, Peter noticing the tangle of the IV around her arm. 

“But I should’ve known it’d have to do with Michelle.” Peter recognizes what he’s doing and stops, running his hands across his thighs before leaning forward, taking May’s outstretched hand into his.

“Not thinking about anyone else but you, May.” Peter smiles, watches as May’s face shifts from a look of concern into almost chastisement. 

“Don’t tell me you and MJ are still fighting.” Peter sighs, shaking his head.

“We’re not fighting, May. We’re just….” Peter trails off, not even sure he could describe something to her that  _ he  _ can’t even rightly make sense of. 

“It’s complicated.”

May squeezes his hand, Peter noting how weak the pressure was. He knew his strength made things relative but a part of him aches that he notices the difference. That there was a difference. 

May was dying. And there wasn’t a damn thing Peter could do to stop it. 

Peter looks into May’s eyes and bites his lip, willing himself to stay in the moment. Not to think of how few visits he had left with her. 

“It’s never that complicated, Peter. Talk to her.” He nods, blinking back tears. 

“I will, May.” 

May looks as if she doesn’t believe him, but after a second of wrestling with herself, she sighs.

“Well then, it’s about time you left for work isn’t it?”

Peter hates to leave, always hates leaving May here. She seems to sense this. 

“Happy is already on his way, don’t worry Pete.” He laughs, shaking his head as he lifts himself out of his chair. 

He leans in, giving a soft kiss to May’s temple. 

“I’ll always worry about you, May.”

“That’s my job, kiddo.” 

Peter is silent as another nurse walks in, signaling that it was time for meds and that he needed to go. 

“I’m 31, May. Think I’m well past ‘kiddo’ territory.” He smiles, knowing her response as he walks to the other side of the bed. 

“You’ll always be my kid, kiddo.” Peter laughs, pausing when he reaches the doorway. He looks back, taps her doorway twice. 

“I’ll be back later tonight. Tell Hap I say hi, okay?”

May only smiles, one that Peter notices doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Of course, Pete. Have a good day at work. I love you.”

“Love you.” Peter pauses for another second then turns away, blinking back tears as he leaves the room.

As he makes his way out of the hallway, down the stairs and out of the hospital, Peter wonders if this — death that faded, that lingered just long enough before it was taken away — would be the final straw. 

He gets into his car, turns the ignition and sighs as the engine stalls.

_ What a perfect fucking day.  _

* * *

Peter sighs with relief as he steps into his personal lab at SI headquarters, grateful to be away from the constant chatter of his colleagues in R&D. 

One of the first things Pepper had done as resumed Stark Industries CEO in the wake of Tony’s death had been buying back the Manhattan tower and declaring it company headquarters once more. Peter knew it had been a smart decision. Yet even after nearly ten years of working in the building, the place still felt full of ghosts to him. 

“Hello Peter, what would you like to work on today?” EDITH asks, Peter rapping his fingers against his main workbench. 

“Not sure yet, E,” Peter replies, looking around before finally picking up his latest project - an improved underground water detector for use by the international branch of the Stark Relief Foundation - and starting to tinker. 

The AI is silent as Peter works, absentmindedly thinking of the day he’d had. 

The car stalling had been a minor issue, all things considered but Peter was already frustrated. He used to joke with Ned when he was younger that he could trademark his Parker Luck, that the universe seemed damned and determined to make his life a living hell.

It had been a joke then, something they laughed about between classes. Peter sighs as he runs a hand through his hair. 

It didn’t feel like much of a joke now. 

Peter glances at his phone to check the time, wondering if Ned would be on his lunch hour yet. He’d taken a job out in California right out of college, living the tech kid’s dream life in Silicon Valley. 

They didn’t talk as much as they used to, but until a few months ago Peter hadn’t minded. He knew it was incredible that they stayed in touch at all. 

But holding the phone in his hand, fingers now tapping against the phone’s side, Peter’s glad that of all the things he fucked up in his life so far, Ned being his best friend isn’t one of them. 

Before he gets the chance to call him, Peter hears the telltale clack of heels coming up and sighs.

_ Here we go. _

The doors slide open, the soft whooshing sound that made Peter feel on edge. 

He’s immediately greeted by Pepper - a firm look on her face, arms folded together. 

He should be glad to see her, usually was. But lately he’d let all her calls go to voicemail, conveniently stepped out of the main lab anytime she seemed to pop by. He should have known better - that eventually she’d track him down and try to get an answer out of him to a question he was studiously avoiding asking himself.

“Peter.”

“Hey Pepper, how’s it going?” Peter pockets his phone and turns to the lab desk, picking up a StarkPad, avoiding her gaze.

He can hear the exasperation in her next words.

“Peter, we need to talk.”

“You know, I’d love to but I have a really important project coming up and the CEO will have my head if I don’t get it done.” 

Peter’s attempt at humor falls flat. He looks up to her, sees her unchanged expression and sighs once again.

“Pepper…”

“Peter. You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I haven’t be--”

Pepper puts a hand up. “Not a question.”

Peter stops, feeling like he’s a teenager, once again in trouble with May over curfew. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. 

“What can I do for you, Pep?”

The question startles her, Peter taking a beat too long to recognize why. 

He and Pepper had known each other for nearly seventeen years. They’d been through funerals, weddings, countless birthdays and holidays together. 

Up until he’d moved out of his and Michelle’s apartment and started avoiding almost everyone, they’d even had weekly dinners. 

Yet Peter’s stricken with guilt at his callousness. No matter how close they had become over the years, Peter knew that calling her ‘Pep’ only served to remind her of the man she’d lost - the reason why her and Peter had ever been connected in the first place. 

_ Nice one, Parker.  _

Peter clears his throat, the sound bringing Pepper back from whatever memory she’d lost herself in. 

“Sorry.” 

She waves her hand. “You’re fine. I just wanted to stop by and ask if you’ve given any more thought to our conversation.”

“What conversation?”

Pepper gives him a look, Peter keeping his expression neutral.

Peter knew damn well what Pepper was speaking of. He didn’t mean to be difficult, it was just the thought of running through this exact conversation - the one he’d been avoiding for the past couple months - was near the bottom of things Peter was interested in talking about today. 

The end of that list, he’d have to face later. 

“The conversation about you taking on a more leading role in SI. You don’t have to decide today, Pete but--” Pepper lets out a low exhale, Peter watching as she closes her eyes. 

Pepper had aged gracefully, though Peter would never comment on such a thing. Her hair had long since faded into a muted gray and even if Peter knew she was self-conscious about the lines and wrinkles on her face, Peter thought she didn’t look much different than what she always had. 

Despite this, Peter can feel the exhaustion emanating off her. 

“You need to decide soon.” 

It was selfish of Peter, he knew this - to keep dragging her on. He’d been avoiding this particular conversation for the past few months but the greater conversation - the real one - had been one he’d been dodging for the better part of a decade. 

Tony Stark was a man forever immortalized, remembered by billions as the hero who saved the world. And Peter, the boy who would be king - the one seemingly tapped to follow in his footsteps - had long wrestled with the burden of that mantle. 

He knew he wasn’t being fair to Pepper, to keep putting off the conversation about transitioning towards a more senior role at Stark Industries - to become the CEO he had been essentially groomed to be. 

Peter wasn’t even hesitant about the job, if he was truly honest with himself. He had a knack for tech, a master’s degree in biological engineering, and the business side of SI fascinated him. 

Not even last year, he and Pepper had discussed about expanding SI, the potential for innovation that they still had. 

But that had been last year. And in the months since, Peter’s entire life had gone to shit. 

He stands there, waiting for Pepper to continue but she’s silent. Waiting. 

Peter sighs once more. 

“I know, Pepper. I will, I promise.” He straightens up, puts on a smile that he knows Pepper can see right through. 

“I just got a lot of stuff going on right now. Everything with May, and then MJ…” Peter trails off, Pepper’s look softening. 

“Oh Pete, I’m sorry. I know this has to be a tough time for you.” He glances up, confused before the realization kicks in. 

“Happy told you.” 

Pepper nods. 

“If you need to take some time away, if you want to--” Peter stops her. 

“No, no it’s fine.” He winces. “I mean, it’s not  _ fine _ . None of this is  _ fine _ .” Peter closes his eyes, turning towards the lab bench as he tries to hold back the tears. 

He can hear her approach, a gentle hand to his shoulder as Peter turns his head away. 

Though Peter knew Pepper would only be concerned, would only want to ensure that he’s doing okay - he still can’t escape the guilt that he’s placing just another burden on her already weary mind. 

“No. None of this is fine.” She squeezes his shoulder, Peter turning to her, a tear threatening to escape. 

“I know it’s been difficult for you, Peter. I don’t mean to pressure you.” 

She doesn’t say it, but Peter knows the question is still there. 

_ What are you going to decide? Are you ready to move forward?  _

As Pepper squeezes his shoulder once more, a gentle smile on her lips, Peter wonders if he’s sure of anything anymore. 

* * *

Peter’s coffee was terrible, but he didn’t care. 

The barista had messed up his order, some punk-ass teenager had cut in front of him in line, and he was pretty sure he was getting the stink eye from a couple of college students because he was hogging a booth all to himself. 

It didn’t matter, really. He downed the scalding hot coffee in a few minutes, swirling around the abysmally made drink in the hopes that the caffeine would help his mind stay focused on the task at hand. 

Peter knew the conversation he was about to have was going to be a difficult one and even if meeting in a busy and crowded coffee shop hadn’t been his idea, he knew MJ would’ve insisted on someplace neutral. 

_ When did we get to this point, M?  _

Peter shakes away the thought, picking at the edge of the disposable coffee cup until a small piece tears off. If Michelle didn’t show up soon, the cup would be torn to shreds by the time she arrived. 

As if she could hear his thoughts, Peter hears the bell indicating someone had walked in and looks up. 

It’s instantaneous, the feeling Michelle’s presence gives to Peter. It’s been over fifteen years and it still takes his breath away, the sudden and instantaneous relief that she was alive. 

She scans the coffee house, meeting his eyes before pressing her lips together in a firm line. 

Peter can already tell how on-edge she is, the tense way she carries her shoulders as she walks toward him a dead giveaway. And yet all Peter can think is how much he still loves her. 

He remembers the trip to Europe at the beginning of his erased year, his eagerness to impress her and the multiple failures he had in trying to spend time with her. 

The blush and innocence of their first kiss had long faded, Peter couldn’t rightfully say he felt butterflies as she comes to a stop just a few feet from where he sits, glancing first at him then at the pieces of the half-demolished cup strewn across the table.

But he still couldn’t help seeing the horrifying and agonizing moment when she’d slumped forward, eyes open and unseeing - the painful memory that Peter had torn the universe apart to run away from. 

He loves Michelle. Loves her with every part of his being. But he knows it’s his fault that they’d gotten to this point to begin with. 

She slides into the booth unceremoniously, tucking a curl behind her ear. Michelle’s eyes scan Peter, a reflex - he knew - to check and see if all his limbs were intact. They may be separated, but Peter feels a twinge of something almost like joy that she still seems to care for him. 

That twinge is extinguished the moment she opens her mouth. 

“What are we doing here, Peter?”

“Drinking coffee. I hear this place has a killer macchiato.” Michelle just sighs, ignoring his attempt at humor. He recognizes the tone of voice, can read from her body language how uncomfortable she is. 

_ Where did it all go wrong? _

Peter already knows the answer to that. 

“I’m on deadline, Pete. What do you want?” 

Peter cringes, picking at his coffee cup once more. 

“I… I just wanted to see how you’re doing, M.” 

Michelle rolls her eyes, Peter choosing to ignore it as he continues.

“So how are you?” 

“On deadline.” Michelle deadpans, Peter tapping his fingers on his now shredded coffee cup. She glances down at its remains, a small smirk forming.

“You gonna recycle all that?” 

“Oh this?” Peter picks up what’s left of his cup, shakes it a little before saying, “Nah, I think I’m gonna start a new collection. An art piece, if you will.” 

“I’m sure it’ll be better than whatever Banksy has planned.” 

“Is he still around?” Michelle shrugs, her hands folded together. “I don’t know, it’s more like, the  _ spirit _ of Banksy, you know? There’s copycats everywhere.” 

“Everyone’s got a gimmick right?” Michelle smiles, genuinely this time. “How’s Pepper doing these days?” 

This makes Peter tense, Michelle immediately sensing the change just as he could sense hers. 

“Never mind. Forget I asked.”

“No, MJ I--”

“It’s fine, Peter.” 

“It’s not, it’s not anything--” 

Michelle puts a hand out - almost on instinct - to rest softly against his. Peter freezes at the motion, if only because he can’t remember the last time she’s done so. 

She seems to realize this just as he does, bringing her hand back as if he’d shocked her. Peter sighs. 

“I’m not trying to push you, Peter. You know that right?” He looks up, sees the hurt in her eyes. But just as quickly as the hurt appears, it’s gone - replaced by a fierce resolve. 

“But I can’t keep doing this with you. I can’t keep-- keep feeling like I’m walking on eggshells with you, afraid of saying or doing something that’s just going to set you off. If it’s not about your nightmares, then it’s about SI, or the Avengers, or Tony, or - or May.” 

Peter lets out a long exhale, sinking into the booth. “I don’t mean to make you feel like you can’t talk to me, M.” 

“But that’s just it, Peter.” Her voice has an edge to it now, Peter closing his eyes. “ _ I  _ feel like I can talk to you about anything.” Michelle leans back then too, straightening her shoulders. “But I can’t keep pretending like you feel the same about me.”

She goes to stand, Peter reaching a hand out.

“MJ--”

“Has anything changed, Peter? Anything at all?” 

He’s silent for a beat too long, Michelle nodding as if to accept what she already knows to be true. 

“Wait, MJ--”

“No, Peter. I can’t, I can’t keep  _ doing _ this with you. Back and forth, never knowing what’s going on with you.” She exits out of the booth, Peter watching helplessly. 

“Michelle…” She stops, taking a deep breath before turning to him. Peter can see the tears in her eyes as she speaks. 

“This wasn’t my idea, Pete. And you know I care about you… so much.” Michelle takes another breath before continuing. “But if you’re not going to trust me, I don’t know if we can keep going on like this.” 

“Michelle, just-- please, I--”

“Don’t apologize, Pete. Just…figure out what you want.” Michelle moves to take a step away from him, seemingly debating something within herself. 

“I love you, Peter,” she says softly after a few moments. 

“I love you too, Michelle. Please, just--” She puts a hand up, continuing. 

“But I’m not waiting forever. I  _ can’t _ .” Michelle turns, Peter just watching as she walks out the door. He glances down to the ruins of the coffee cup, feeling hopeless.

It seemed that no matter what he did, Peter only ever manages to mess things up. He leans his head back along the edge of the booth seat and stares at the ceiling, fully intending on wallowing in his misery for a bit longer, when he feels his phone vibrate. Peter reaches into his pocket, glancing at the notification. 

** _FISK SIGHTED IN MANHATTAN, AUTHORITIES ON ALERT_ **

Peter sighs, shaking his head as he gathers the coffee cup remains, making sure to toss them into the recycling bin on his way out. 

  
_ Duty calls. _


	4. Unbound

In the days since his conversation with Michelle, Peter had done his best to put his turmoil over their future in the back of his mind. Luckily, he’d had the perfect distraction: his ongoing hunt for Wilson Fisk and the businessman’s lackey, the Green Goblin. But now, swinging across Brooklyn on a Tuesday evening, he can’t help but feel defeated. None of the few tips he’d received from law enforcement or his other vigilante sources had come to anything, and Fisk and his crony are still out there.

It had been over eight months since the last time he’d battled the two criminals - along with the Prowler - in a showdown over Fisk’s so-called “nuclear supercollider,” a giant machine the man had bragged could reach across universes and enter other timelines. 

Fisk had built the collider in order to bring back his dead wife and son, which Peter had to admit was an understandable desire - he wouldn’t begrudge the man something he himself had done - but this was beyond accepting, especially when it risked the lives of tens of thousands of civilians over. 

That was, if the device even worked. Peter Parker, Man of Science, would argue such a thing wasn’t possible. But Peter Parker, Secret Identity: Spider-Man, certainly knew there was more to this universe than what science had proven, and so Peter had followed the criminal trio that night to their underground lab and engaged them in an effort to thwart the supercollider’s trial run. 

The machine itself had looked ominous enough even before it was powered up, and although Peter had no idea if the device was capable of what Fisk claimed, he had to admit it certainly seemed capable enough as he was nearly knocked into the giant beam again and again by Goblin and Prowler.

Months on, Peter still didn’t know if he’d call that fight a win for Spider-Man. The supercollider had been destroyed, sure. But Fisk and the Green Goblin had gotten away, and the Prowler… 

Peter shakes his head, aiming for a rooftop. For Peter at least, the memories of what happened that night were still too raw, a constant battle to push them from his mind. 

Of course, all his efforts had managed to do was push away Michelle, Peter thinks with a grimace as he lands. So much for working through his traumas. _ So much for not fucking this timeline up.  _

He is startled from his thoughts at the sight of a red, blue and white figure in mechanical wings landing only feet from him. 

Peter takes a deep, long breath. “Sam.”

Sam Wilson lifts his goggles. “Spider-Man. Long time no see.”

_ Not long enough _ , Peter thinks grimly, but he doesn’t voice it. He and Sam may have had their differences over the last few years, but overall he does still respect the man. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of an ambush from the head Avenger tonight?”

“C’mon, Pete, don’t be like that. I came looking for you to pass on some intel. I heard from Murdock you were looking for Wilson Fisk.”

Peter’s eyebrows rise, his mask lens widening. “Oh? From everything I know of the Avengers you’re not ones to dabble in vigilante affairs. Below your pay grade, Tony told me once.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Consider it a peace offering, then. Or however you want to take it - look, I’m just trying to help you out. We’re on the same side, remember? Stark  _ did _ make you an Avenger too, even if you won’t admit it.”

Peter narrows his eyes, ignoring the jab. “Where’d you get this intel from, exactly?”

“We have our sources, same as you.”

“So, it’s Fury,” Peter replies, smirking. Sam doesn’t reply, which only confirms Peter’s suspicion. He sighs again. “And this info… it’s no strings attached? No favors owed?”

“No strings,” Sam replies, his expression earnest.

Peter looks away toward the lights of Manhattan for a few moments, then back at the superhero. “Alright then, let’s have it.”

Sam grins. “I have it on good authority that Fisk has a hideout at an abandoned car wash in Elmont, right off the turnpike near the cemetery. He’s meeting his pumpkin-chucking buddy there late tomorrow night. With any luck you can nab both of them.”

“Is he already there now?”

“No clue, but he  _ will _ be there tomorrow night. I’m afraid that’s all I know.”

Peter nods. “All right, Sam. Thanks for the intel. If you don’t mind though I really should be off.”

He’s turning to aim a web when Sam softly says, “I was hoping we could talk a bit longer, actually.”

Peter sighs, jaw tightening. He lowers his arm and turns back around, pointing a finger at the bright white star on Sam’s chest. “Y’know, I thought Captain America was supposed to be the arbiter of justice and truth. You told me the intel had no strings attached. What gives?”

Sam gives him a wide grin. “I don’t know if you heard, Pete, but Cap’s fallen far since you were a skinny dweeb watching his PSAs in gym class. He’s a whole new man, or so I’ve heard.”

Peter smirks at that despite himself, glad that the mask covers it. “I guess that’s true. ” Peter crosses his arms, gesturing towards Sam. 

“All right, Uncle Sam, you’ve got two minutes. But this better not be a rehash of the conver-”

“I was wondering if you’ve given it any more thought,” Sam interrupts him, yet his voice stays gentle.

“Thought to what? What I’m making for dinner tonight? I have actually - have you ever tried Spider-Man’s Spaghetti Surprise? It comes from a can and the pasta are tiny O’s but don’t be fooled, it’s spectac-”

“God, can you be serious about anything for even five minutes these days?” Sam interrupts again, this time with an edge to his voice. “About joining the Avengers full-time.”

Peter works his jaw. “Come to think of it, I haven’t, Sam. I thought my  _ hell no  _ was pretty clear back when you got in my face about it last time we spoke.”

Sam takes a step forward, and Peter can’t help but step back in response. “Look Peter, I know you’re scared-”

Peter scowls. “I’m not scared, Sam. I’ve seen everything you’ve seen, and in case you  _ forgot _ , a few things you haven’t.”

“Well then what is it, man? Because Stark didn’t bring you back so you could fuck around saving cats from trees in Queens for the next thirty years. You’ve already wasted a decade, for gods’ sake.”

“Fuck you, Sam.” Peter is shaking now, hands balling into fists in an effort to steady himself. “That’s low and you know it. I’ve had more reason than  _ any  _ of you to give all this up and yet here I am, looking to walk right back into the next fight.”

Peter takes another breath, trying and failing to calm down.  “ I’m doing good right here in the city, and I don’t see why the stakes need to get bigger for me just because as a kid I was forced into situations beyond my control. So fuck you and fuck the Avengers, because I won’t let anyone force me into anything anymore, and especially not someone I thought I could trust.”

Sam raises his arms in a placating gesture. “You  _ can _ trust me, Peter. Look, I’m sorry for the dig about Tony. And it’s no secret you’re braver than most, okay? If you weren’t, SHIELD wouldn’t be breathing down my neck trying to get you on board. ” Sam sighs, Peter watching him intently. 

“I just, I don’t get it, and nobody else on the team does either. Please, man, I’m just trying to understand here.”

Something about Sam’s open expression, his imploring gaze carves the anger out of Peter like a knife swiping at butter. He takes a deep breath, the fight now gone from him, leaving only a bone-deep weariness behind. 

“You’re right, Sam. I  _ am _ scared. But not for myself. I’m scared for MJ. I’m scared of losing her, or May, or Morgan, even Happy…”

He pauses, gaze turning away, feeling horribly vulnerable. He usually doesn’t share these thoughts with anyone, not even Michelle. But Sam doesn’t say anything, just gives him a few moments to gather himself. After a minute Peter turns back, locking eyes determinedly with the fellow hero. 

“I’ve had my life upended in the blink of an eye so many times. I can’t keep putting everyone I love in danger like that anymore. And the Avengers, that’s what you face all the time. Losing my uncle and then-- and then  _ Tony  _ was hard enough. And MJ…” 

Sam gives Peter a questioning gaze, cleary about to ask what he’s referring to, but Peter barrels on. 

“I can’t go through it again, Sam. Hell, even being just  _ Spider-Man _ lately has been hard enough-” 

Peter chokes on the next words, afraid of giving away even more of the dark thoughts that constantly haunt him than he already has. “I can’t do it again, Sam. So damn it, quit asking me to.”

Sam says nothing for a few moments, looking down and away before matching Peter’s gaze once more and nodding gently. “Okay. I won’t ask again. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Peter bites the inside of his cheek. “I do. Thanks again for the intel.”

Sam smirks as he pulls his goggles back down over his eyes. “No problem, Pete. Tell May I’ll be over to visit her soon, will ya?”

“Sure thing, spangles.”

With a final wave, the Avenger blasts into the sky, soon nothing but a speck of light on the dark horizon. Peter stays on the rooftop for a few more minutes, lost in thought, before quietly aiming a web back in the familiar direction of Queens. 

He never once notices the small figure crouched in the shadows of the building’s fire escape, having heard the entire conversation. They wait until Peter is out of sight before climbing down the side of the building and disappearing into the quiet Brooklyn streets.

* * *

Peter hears her footsteps coming up the stairs. He goes to open the door, timing it perfectly to when her hand is outstretched, right about to knock.

Morgan sighs, rolling her eyes. “I hate it when you do that.” 

“What? Dazzle and amaze with my amazing spider-skills?” She gives him a look, pushing past him, Thai food in hand. 

“Have we talked about how your quips need a little work? I saw a video compilation the other day and I gotta say, Pete, you’re really starting to go downhill.”

Peter puts a hand to his chest as if he’s been shot, shutting and locking the door as Morgan smirks. “You wound me, Morg. Have compassion for an old man.” 

“You’re 31, Pete, hardly an old-timer. Besides,” Morgan sets the bags down on his dirty coffee table, moving junk mail and bills aside, “Someone’s gotta keep you on your toes.”

Peter ignores the subtle jab, pursing as he helps Morgan take the food out of the bag. They’re silent for a moment, Morgan settling into Peter’s couch - even as he catches her eyeing it with suspicion. Peter didn’t try to offer any kind of assurance that it’d been cleaned recently - he’d only be lying. 

Morgan stopping for dinner wasn’t exactly a regular occurrence, but not completely out of the blue. They used to see each other more often, when he and Michelle were still living together. It’d been a thing, some sort of family dinner tradition with the three of them, May and Pepper. 

But after he and Michelle separated, along with May getting more and more sick and Pepper starting to pressure him more about SI - the dinners became less of something that Peter looked forward to, until they eventually stopped altogether. 

He regrets it now, Morgan’s presence beside him a reminder that even if the rest of his life had gone to shit - Peter shouldn’t have ditched his semi-frequent check-ins with Morgan. But the way she looks at him, Peter wonders if she believes that she is checking on  _ him _ . 

Peter starts to dig in, hungry and hoping Morgan will drop whatever it is she had planned to talk about, even if he’s sure he could make a guess. 

“So how’s MJ doing?” Peter chokes on a noodle, Morgan just watching as he tries to gain his composure. He swallows it down, building the confidence he doesn’t think he has. He should’ve known that Morgan Stark wouldn’t ever let a damn thing go. 

“She’s fine, Morgan. I told you, we’re just taking a break.”

Morgan raises an eyebrow, a look that sends a pang through Peter and how familiar it is. “A break? You’re married, Peter, not on summer vacation. Cause last time I talked to her, she said you were being an ass.” 

Peter rolls his eyes, exasperated. 

“Why would you ask a question when you already know the answer then?” Morgan shrugs, taking a bite of her pad thai. 

“I heard from MJ, not you. So. What’s the deal then? When are you guys getting over this shit and getting back together?” 

Peter sighs, setting his food down as he glances at Morgan. She’s chewing her food, watching him with a look of innocence that Peter doesn’t believe for one second. He should’ve known when she had texted that she had had an ulterior motive, should’ve expected that there was a reason she had wanted to meet at his apartment for dinner beyond just ‘craving some Thai food’.

If Peter’s honest with himself, he’d felt a little guilty at her text - just another reminder of all the ways he was currently failing in his life. He’d been aggravated from his conversation with Sam, annoyed that whatever the hell Fisk was planning again had decided to show up at the most inconvenient time in his life. 

He shouldn’t have let the time he spent avoiding Morgan go on for as long as it did. 

“It’s not that simple.”

Morgan rolls her eyes now, leaning back into his couch. “Yeah, it really is. Just talk to her.”

Peter just shakes his head, running a hand over his face. “Morgan.”

“I’m serious, Pete. Look,” Morgan sets down her take-out box, curling her feet underneath her as she leans in, “My friends tell me all the time that they feel like they have no one to talk to, like no one understands what they feel and you know what I tell them?” 

Morgan smiles, the look of it reminding Peter once more of how much she’s like her father.

“I tell them that they won’t know unless they try. And that’s all you gotta do, Pete. Open up. Talk to her. You love her. She loves you. Don’t make it weird.” 

Peter laughs, shaking his head.

“You know, you were a lot less sarcastic when you were little.” Morgan just grins, picking her take-out box back up.

“Yeah, and I also believed Bucky when he said that he was just born that way when I asked about his arm.” Peter laughs, Morgan nudging him with her elbow.

“You’ll be fine, Pete. I believe in you.” 

It’s a subtle but no less devastating hit for Peter, the way Morgan is able to intuitively understand the words that Peter desperately needs to hear even if he doesn’t have the guts to ask for them. It’s a skill that Tony had had in spades, one that Peter could only hoped that he had been able to emulate to Morgan through the years. 

When they had switched places, Peter doesn’t know. But he’s grateful for it all the same. 

“Hey, that’s my line.” Morgan laughs, rolling her eyes. Peter just smiles, grabbing his food before changing the subject to ask about her day. 

* * *

Peter lands softly on the roof of a discount department store in the Queens neighborhood of Elmont later that evening, staying in the shadows as he inspects the abandoned car wash nextdoor. According to his research the  _ Splish Splash Car Wash _ had closed in 2027, with the building languishing before it had been sold to an unnamed real estate developer three years ago. 

Of course, the property had never been developed, and from the outside the building still appeared to be in disrepair. Peter wonders if any of the locals had ever wondered why it had reinforced windows and doors. 

Peter takes a quick look around before taking a running leap off the edge and landing gracefully on the roof off the car wash. He focused his senses, and was able to detect two heartbeats in the building beneath. Luckily, each car wash lane had a venting window in the ceiling, and apparently Fisk hadn’t thought it necessary to cover them because Peter was easily able to peer inside each one through the bulletproof glass.

“EDITH, initiate protocol Speak Up,” he orders, allowing the AI voice access to his suit for the first time in months. This is too important for him not to use every available tool. 

“Protocol Speak Up confirmed,” EDITH says. “Good evening, Peter.”

“Hey, E,” Peter replies with a small smile.

The  _ Splish Splash _ no longer had most of its car wash components, Peter notes as he checks each skylight for Fisk and the Goblin. There’s a few boilers still present along with steam pipes lining the walls, but the mitters and wraps systems are long gone.

Peter makes his way down the length of the building, and finally in the seventh lane, he catches sight of them. 

Fisk, wearing an impeccable and likely very expensive business suit, sits in an armchair in the corner next to the large garage door. He looks impatient as he stares across the room at the Green Goblin is flitting about, casually throwing a pumpkin into the air over and over, looking bored. 

“Well, Norman? You must have  _ something _ by now.”

Goblin audibly gulps, the bomb disappearing back into his suit. “I’m sorry, boss. I’ve tried tracking him but it’s the Spider-Man - he’s practically untraceable when he wants to be.”

“EDITH, initiate protocol B&E,” Peter whispers. Silently, a small piece of Peter’s suit slides off, breaking into even smaller sections and disappearing underneath the skylight edges, carefully beginning to unscrew the window.

Below Peter, Fisk stands up and stalks toward the Green Goblin. “Bullshit, Norman. He may be a mutant but he’s still just one man. A man that will die slowly at my hands for what he’s done to my family. I want him found and I want him found  _ now _ , do you understand me? Unless you want to end up like the Prowler, eh?”

Goblin noticeably shrinks back at that, a tense silence between the two of them. Fisk is now directly below Peter, and if Peter can just jump down and get the criminal webbed up before they even know he’s there, then maybe... 

“EDITH? Are the nanites-”

“Peter, I am detecting a third presence at the-”

Just then one of the garage door windows breaks as a red and blue blur crashes into the room. Fisk and Green Goblin turn and Fisk shouts “Spider-Man!” just as Peter cries out “What the  _ fuck? _ ”

Down below, hopping to his feet and brandishing what appears to be a hammer with a kitchen knife duct-taped at the end, is some guy in a gimmicky Spider-Man costume found in nearly every dollar store in Queens.

“Mr. Fisk, I’m here to arrest you for the murder of my uncle,” the costumed figure says, voice breaking on  _ uncle _ .

Peter’s stomach sinks at the squeak in the intruder’s voice. That’s no adult, that’s a  _ kid _ . A kid who is absolutely out of his league, judging by the truly abysmal improvised weapon he’s holding. 

There’s a cry of “Spider-Man!” and the Green Goblin starts to wind up a pumpkin bomb, but Fisk holds a hand up.

“Now Norman, can’t you tell the difference between the real deal and an impersonator? This isn’t Spider-Man, this is just some child in a costume. What do you want, son?”

The kid’s bravado falters at that, and Peter has a feeling this was where his plan ended. If he had a plan at all. 

“I-I told you. I’m here to arrest you for the murder of my uncle, and - and if you don’t come quietly I’ll be forced to use  _ these _ ,” the kid says, holding up both the knife-hammer and his other hand.

There’s a beat of silence before both Fisk and Goblin break out in giggles.

“I’m shaking in my boots, truly I am, son,” Fisk says, slapping his thighs before suddenly sobering. “But I’m afraid I simply cannot comply with your request. You see, I have the  _ real _ Spider-Man to catch, not to mention a general  _ desire _ , shall we say, to remain free.”

Fisk stands, Peter tensing . “ I don’t know who your uncle was, but perhaps you should have heeded his death and stayed out of my way. I’m afraid I have to be going now but I’m sure Norman will make sure you get home  _ safely _ , won’t you Norman?”

“Certainly, boss!” Goblin cries before chucking the bomb still in his grip at the kid, who barely dodges out of the way before it explodes. One entire half of the room blazes a bright orange, fire licking at the skylight only a foot from Peter’s head. 

As the flames die down Peter can barely make out form of the kid attempting to slice at the Goblin with the hammer-knife, the villain gleefully taunting him. 

EDITH chirps in his ear. “Peter, it appears Fisk has retreated out a side entrance and is running south in the direction of the cemetery.”

Peter stands up, ready to jump off the roof edge and pursue the criminal, but something stops him. His head swivels between Fisk, now a block away and completely vulnerable, and the skylight through which he can still hear the Goblin and the kid battling. He knows the kid probably needs his help, but this is his first chance in months to take down Fisk and-

Just then another explosion sounds from the car wash, and Peter from inside hears a small whimper.

“Fuck fuck  _ fuck _ ,” Peter mutters, as Fisk disappears into a treeline. “Time for Plan B, EDITH.”

Peter crouches over the window and punches through the skylight’s glass, jumping down. Most of the car wash interior is now on fire, the smoke making it hard to breathe. 

The room is hazy but in a corner - a corner of the goddamn ceiling,  _ holy shit _ \- Peter spots the kid, his costume singed, clinging to the wall and looking down in terror. Beneath him the Goblin is laughing and winding up another bomb. “Say goodnight, baby-Spider!”

Peter shoots a web at Goblin’s arm, halting it mid-throw. “Not so fast, Gobby!”

“ _ Spider-Man _ ,” Goblin hisses, flinging a razor bat at Peter’s head. Peter dodges out of the way and shoots a web net at the villain just as Goblin tosses another bomb at him. The two weapons meet in an explosion of fire and webbing. Peter covers his eyes, opening them again just in time to see the Goblin’s feet disappear through the broken garage door window.

Peter moves to pursue him, but just then the kid suddenly collapses from his perch, landing hard on his side, body spasming with deep coughs.

Peter curses. Looks like how won’t be catching either of his quarry tonight, and all because of this stupid, irresponsible child.  _ Damn it! _

With a groan of frustration Peter leans over and picks the kid up at the waist, balancing him against his hip like a sack of potatoes as he aims for the for the broken skylight.

The two spiders fly through the window just as one of the wall pipes burst, a spray of boiling water covering the room. 

“Put me down, man!” the kid screams as they land on the roof. 

“Zip it, kid. The adult is working,” he orders sternly, trying to listen. 

Sure enough, the sirens he could hear coming earlier are now only 3 blocks away, and Peter doesn’t so much as spare the spiderling a glance before aiming another web at the neighboring department store.

“Let go of me!”

“You’re really annoying, anyone ever told you that?”

  
Soon enough they’re leaving the blazing remains of the  _ Splish Splash _ behind, the kid’s squeaky-voiced tirade - to Peter’s growing irritation - never once letting up.


	5. Revived

“Dude, let go of me!” the kid tells, trying to squirm out of Peter’s hold as he swings between buildings one-handed. The kid - who apparently has powers just like Peter’s,  _ holy shit _ \- is strong, there’s no doubt about it, but Peter is just a bit stronger, and has at least fifteen years experience on him. 

“This is kidnapping! You’re  _ kidnapping _ me right now!”

“Kid, have you noticed where we are?” he yells back, letting go of one web-rope and gracefully shooting the next. “If I drop you -”

“Let me  _ go _ !”

With a soft sigh Peter aims his next web a few stories lower, and within ten seconds they’ve landed in an alley not too far from May and Ben’s old apartment. 

The moment they hit the ground the kid wiggles out of his grasp and jumps a few feet away. Even through his flimsy mask, Peter can tell he’s looking at him accusingly. 

“Not cool, man,” the kid says, panting. Peter ignores him, instead opting to look around the alley. The countless times he’d changed here before or after a patrol all ran together in his memory. 

It was years ago since the last time he’d been in this spot but the alley was still the same old graffiti, same old beat-up dumpster, same old stench of expired sauerkraut from the German market next door. It hadn’t changed in over a decade, even if everything else had. 

His attention is drawn again to the kid, who stalks right up to him, pointing a finger in his face. “Why’d you have to do that anyway? I was handling it!”

“Oh, that’s what you call  _ handling it _ , is it? If by  _ handling it _ you mean  _ three seconds away from being nothing but rotting meat _ , sure, you were handling it,” says Peter. 

The kid sputters underneath his mask. “What’s it to you anyway? You’ve barely been around for months now!”

The kid couldn’t possibly have any idea how much that comment stings, but that knowledge doesn’t stop Peter’s voice from going icy when he replies, “Look, kid. You have a lot to learn before you’re ready to face someone on the level of Fisk or the Green Goblin, you hear me? I don’t care who in your life they hurt, you need to stay the hell out of the way, whether it’s their way or mine.” 

Peter groans, feeling older than his years. “Because I can’t do my job and worry about an untrained mini-me at the same time. You keep going like this and you’ll just get us both killed, or god forbid innocent civilians. You want that on your conscience?”

The kid doesn’t answer, just stares up at him before looking down at the ground, shoulders sagging. The sight is almost enough to make Peter feel bad, but if there’s one thing he’s learned the hard way, sometimes hurting people and protecting them are the same thing.

He lets out a long sigh. “See ya around, kid,” he says, aiming a web and shooting. He grasps it, about to jump back into the sky, when - 

“You could teach me!”

Peter pauses, both hands wrapped on the web, head turned back to the kid. “Excuse me, what was that? I couldn’t have possibly heard that correctly.”

The kid is jumping a bit on his feet now, clearly excited. “C’mon, man. Haven’t you ever wanted a sidekick? Someone to help you in a fight? Like Robin or Supergirl or-”

“Kid, how old are you?”

“...almost fifteen.”

Peter puts a hand to his forehead.  _ Goddamnit.  _

He lifts up a fist. “Yeah, three things about that. One...” 

Peter raises one finger.

“You’re  _ fourteen _ . This isn’t math class, we’re not rounding up. Two...” 

Second finger.

“I’ve been doing this gig without a sidekick longer than you’ve been alive. And three...” 

Final finger.

“You’re still  _ fourteen _ . No way am I training a fourteen year-old how to be a superhero.”

The kid sputters. “Why does that matter? I got all the same powers you do!”

“It matters because you are  _ too young _ for this life. You should be worrying about schoolwork, or your next sports match, or if that girl or boy you like, likes you back. Not about being responsible for other people’s lives. Even if you were old enough, I’m not looking for a side gig as a Spider-Man coach to a rookie.” 

Peter shakes his head, feeling exhausted.  “ Especially not one with a reckless chip on his shoulder against one of the most dangerous men in the city. I got enough going on in my own life. So sorry kid, the answer is no.”

Peter turns back to his web, again about to take off again. He crouches low, feet at the ready.

There’s a soft  _ whoosh _ sound then. “Please, just listen!”

Peter’s head swivels to find the kid has unmasked himself. From beneath tight black curls a pair of wide brown eyes are looking up at him imploringly. “Please, Spider-Man, just hear me out?”

Peter closes his eyes for a few seconds, before leaning up from his crouch and nodding.

The kid’s lips lift just a tiny amount, before his face turns grim. “Look, a few months ago, I got these powers, right? And at first, I had no idea what to do with them, but I knew there was one person I could tell who would help me - my uncle.” 

The kid looks away then, and Peter already knows he won’t like where this story is going at all. 

“But he- he died before I had a chance to tell him. And it was Fisk who killed him. And at first, I didn’t want anything to do with my powers anymore. But after a while I realized that I still had to do what he would want me to do, you know? I still had to use them to help people, even if I had to figure it out by myself. And taking Fisk down - that’s helping people.”

The kid sighs then, gesturing to himself. “Look, I know I’m only fourteen, okay? I don’t need you to tell me that - my dad already does all the time. But, that doesn’t mean I’m not old enough to help. So, maybe you won’t teach me, but that’s not gonna stop me. I’m doing this with or without you, okay? But… I’d probably be better off if I had your help. So, uh, please? Will you help me?”

Peter turns away. Part of his brain is screaming  _ No! Do not let him win _ . But another part, a slightly louder part, is remembering how he felt when he was fourteen and keeping this giant secret from everyone he loved, wishing for nothing more than for Happy to call him and say Mister Stark needed him on another mission. 

Remembering what it was like to lay trapped underneath a dozen tons of rubble, and to realize that he was Spider-Man no matter what suit he wore, no matter how young or old he was. 

Remembering that bridge in London, when Beck had him feel as if nothing and everything was real - knowing that it was on him to save his friends. 

Looking at this kid now, Peter sees the same determination in his eyes.

It was never a contest, Peter realizes. Not really.

“What’s your name, kid?”

The teen stands up a little straighter. “Miles.”

“Alright, Miles, you win.”

The grin the kid gives him then could easily rival a thousand suns in its intensity. Even knowing he’s wearing a mask, Peter doesn’t let himself smile back. 

It’s about making sure the kid survives, not about making friends. 

_ It’s just a job. _

He knows what Michelle would say.  _ Sure, Parker, keep telling yourself that. _

But no, he can’t listen to her. 

_ It’s just a job _ , he tells himself again. It has to be.

“Meet me here in two days, same spot, seven pm sharp. And don’t be late - if we’re going to take down Fisk, we need to stay focused.”

* * *

When Peter enters May’s hospital room the next evening, just before visiting hours are supposed to end, she’s fast asleep. Happy is still up though, watching a PBS marathon of some old British series from when Peter was a kid.

“Hey, Pete.”

“Hey Hap,” Peter whispers. “Sorry I’m so late, I got caught up with something in the lab and-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Happy replies, rubbing his eyes. “She’s been out since dinner, you’d have probably missed visiting with her anyway.”

“Oh,” Peter replies, biting his lip as he sits down in one of the empty chairs by May, gingerly leaning over to give her a kiss on the cheek while she sleeps on, oblivious. “She, uh, been doing that more and more often?”

Happy crouches over on his elbows on May’s other side, carefully grabbing one of her hands and cradling it in his own, before looking over again at Peter.

“Yeah. Doctor says it’s to be expected. She may yet rally for a while - weeks or even a few months - before the end though, that’s not uncommon…”

Happy trails off then, gently stroking a strand of May’s bangs out of her eyes. She’d insisted on the new hairstyle when they’d first found out she was sick, and Michelle had accompanied her to the salon. Afterward, Happy and Peter joined up with the two and they’d all gone out for Thai. 

It had been one of the last really good days Peter could remember the four of them having together. Less than eight months ago, but looking at how much May had deteriorated since then, it felt like a lifetime. 

“Kid, did you hear me?”

Peter’s startled from his thoughts. “What was that?”

Happy eyes him with a hint of concern. “I asked how you’ve been holding up.”

“Oh. I’m fine.”

Happy raises his eyebrows. “May might not always be able to call you out on your bullshit anymore, but you can’t get past me, Pete. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

_ What’s not? _ Peter thinks, but doesn’t say as much. He’d rather not talk about Michelle, and Happy already knows about Pepper’s constant pressure, which just leaves one real topic. 

_ What the hell _ ,  _ why not. _

“I met this kid.”

Happy waits for him to go on, and when he doesn’t, says, “Okay… there’s a lot of kids in this city,  _ kid _ . You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Peter rubs at his temples. “Well, maybe  _ met _ isn’t the right word. I was trying to catch Fisk last night when this teenager in a knock-off Spider-Man costume showed up out of nowhere. I ended up having to save both our asses, and Fisk got away.”

Happy sputters. “So what, the kid just thought he could put on a onesie and he’d magically be just like Spider-Man?”

“That’s the thing. He has spider powers too! I don’t know if even he knows what all he can do, but he definitely has the strength and agility. Plus I saw him climb up a wall. With the way he was dodging the Goblin’s bombs I’m pretty sure he’s got some sort of spidey-sense too. It was pretty uncanny, actually.”

Happy’s eyes go wide. “No shit. That’s a new one. I thought you were one of a kind. You think Oscorp offers a regular radioactive spiders lab tour or how..?”

“I don’t know how he got his powers, I didn’t get a chance to ask yet.” Peter pauses, makes a face. “But uh, I did agree to kinda, train him?”

His step-uncle nods approvingly, leaning back in his chair. “Well yeah, that makes sense.”

Peter’s jaw drops. “You’re not going to tell me I’m nuts? That training a fourteen year-old to be a superhero is insane?”

Happy gives a half smile. “Twenty-five years ago, I would have said it was. Hell, I  _ did  _ say it was, back when Tony revealed his little plan to recruit a snot-nosed kid from Queens to go to Germany.”

Happy sits back up, reaching an arm across the bed just far enough to put a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “But I was wrong, Pete. It was the best decision Tony ever made. It gave him you.”

Peter pulls away with a huff, looking anywhere but Happy as the older man’s hand falls.

“Yeah, and it also got him killed. So much for best laid plans.” 

There’s a long sigh from Happy, and Peter feels his cheeks heat up as a sharp stab of shame hits him. He rubs his temples again, then stands up.

“Sorry Happy, it’s been a long day. I should probably get going. I’ll be back for visiting hours again on Thursday morning.”

He doesn’t realize Happy is following him until he’s already out in the hallway.

“Hey, Pete?”

Peter turns around, watching the man expectantly.

“Look, if this kid is anything like you - and it sure as hell sounds like he is - he’s better off with someone to look out for him. I know you know that, even if it sounds crazy. But I get the feeling this isn’t just about that, is it?”

Peter looks down the hallway. There’s a young girl in a wheelchair, and a man who can only be her father pushing her from behind. She has her head tipped up at him, and they’re both smiling. He turns back to his step-uncle.

“You’re right, it isn’t just about that. But as long as I don’t let myself get too attached, things will be fine,” he says with a shrug. “It’s just another part of the superhero gig, nothing more.”

From the look Happy gives him it’s clear his attempt at nonchalance failed, but thankfully he doesn’t call Peter out on it. 

“Y’know, Tony said something very similar right before everything with the Vulture back in ‘17. So I’ll just tell you what I told him.”

Peter raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

Happy smirks. “Good luck with that, boss.”

* * *

“Mm, I love this sandwich. So delicious,” Peter says with his mouth full, mask half rolled up. 

Miles sits next to him on a rooftop, barely picking at his, a grimace on his face. Peter licks some extra mustard off his lips, looking over at the uneaten sandwich he got the kid.

“Kid, I know you said you’re from Brooklyn, but Delmar’s makes the best sandwiches in the city. Are you just not a pickles fan or-”

“I thought you said we needed to stay focused. When are you gonna teach me how to be Spider-Man?”

Peter balls up his sandwich paper, setting it down next to him. “Yep, I did say that. So what do you want to know? And are you gonna eat that? ‘Cuz if not...”

Wordlessly and with a face of slight disgust Miles hands over his sandwich, and Peter digs in. 

_ Delmar’s: another thing that hasn’t changed. Thank God. _

“Um, do you got any Spider-Man tips for me?”

“Sure, I got plenty.” Peter takes another giant bite. “Wash the suit often, but only on the gentle cycle, or better yet hand wash if you have time.” Peter takes another bite, mouth full as he continues. 

“ And double-check all the pockets to make sure you’ve removed every gadget beforehand because believe me, you’re going to miss one every time you don’t.”

“Okay... Anything else?”

“Nope. That was everything,” Peter replies with a smirk, taking another bite.

Miles rolls his eyes. “I think you’re going to be a bad teacher,” he deadpans.

Peter chuckles, which causes him to choke on a piece of bologna. He coughs for a bit before managing to wheeze out, “Don’t worry, kid, I got you covered.”

He turns back to the sandwich bag, before lifting out the pair of extra web-shooters he brought from his lab in the tower.

Miles’ eyes light up. “No way! You’re going to teach me how to swing!” He puts his hands up as if shooting webs and makes a  _ thwip-thwip  _ sound.

Peter smiles, and raises an eyebrow. “You think that’s cool? Just wait until you graduate Spider-Man Elementary and get your custom Spider-Man suit. We can finally get you out of that ridiculous knock-off Halloween costume you’re sporting.”

“That’s just low, man. No need to be a hater.”

* * *

“Okay, kid, time to jump,” says Peter. “This isn’t any different than the ten-story we just practiced on, okay?”

Miles looks over the edge of the Manhattan skyscraper, gulping. For the twentieth time he checks the levels of web fluid in his new shooters, before turning back to Peter with wide eyes. “Y-yeah, of course. Just like that, no difference, totally not seventy-two stories higher. Yup, exactly the same.”

Peter smirks behind his mask. The kid’s pretty endearing, there’s no doubt about it. “Remember, I’ll be right behind you. If you start to fall, I’m gonna catch you.”

Like a slap to the face, the memory of Tony ordering him to  _ let go _ , _ I’m gonna catch you  _ plays in his mind unbidden. It had been so long since he’d let himself so much as think of the day he died, that he’d nearly forgotten it. But there it was, as if he were hearing it again for the first time. 

Strangely, unlike almost every other sudden memory of Tony the last fifteen years, it doesn’t hurt to think about. 

He’s drawn from his thoughts when he hears a small whimper from Miles. The kid is shuffling back and forth on his feet like he’s on hot coals, and he keeps glancing back at the roof door. 

“So, uh, it’s getting late, maybe we could-”

Peter puts both hands on his shoulders, stilling him. 

“Look kid. I wouldn’t let you try this if I didn’t think you could do it. But the only way you’re going to be able to avenge your uncle and help me take down Fisk is if you have complete control of your powers. I was right where you were once too, and I know how scary it looks. But that didn’t stop me, and you can’t let it stop you either, okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Miles says, head bobbing up and down nervously.

But it’s clear he’s not convinced, glancing back at the roof door again.

Obviously just telling the kid to power through his fear isn’t working. But what to say? Peter’s never mentored a kid before, and certainly not one with superpowers. 

Then again, neither had Tony, and he ended up being the greatest mentor Peter can ever imagine having. 

Peter closes his eyes for a moment, focusing. He channels every memory he has of Tony giving him advice, reassuring him, bucking him up. He lets all the memories of every time Tony reminded him who he really was, who he wanted to be, who he  _ could _ be wash over him. 

Peter puts moves a hand from Miles’ shoulder to his cheek, gently turning his face back to him. Then he does something he never planned on doing, at least not so soon-- he lifts his mask completely up, revealing his entire face. 

The surprise in the kid’s expression even through his own flimsy mask is almost comical, but Peter ignores it. He has a job to do, and it’s about more than just the kid’s survival.

He leans in so their noses are almost touching.

“Miles, listen to me. There’s always going to be moments you’re afraid, when you think you can’t do something. And when you’re Spider-Man, that’s doubly true, believe me. But sometimes you just have to take the risk, because it’s the only way to help someone. And this, right here? This is one of those times.”

Peter looks over to the edge, out into the night, then back at Miles who is watching him intently.

“So take a deep breath, plan your route, and then let go and  _ jump _ . Trust your senses to guide you. And worse comes to worst, you’re still going to be alright because I’m right here and I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise. But I know you can do this.”

Something he said must do the trick, because there’s a new determination in Miles as he slowly nods. “Okay, okay, yeah…. Let’s do this.”

Peter nods firmly back, then pulls his mask back down, adjusting his shooters. “Alright, kid, whenever you’re ready.”

Miles turns and faces the ledge, peering over once more. He stands there so long that Peter wonders if the pep talk failed, and the kid is going to back out. Peter is surprised that he really hopes that’s not the case. 

And just like that, Miles tips forward and begins to fall. _ _

Peter leaps after him. There’s about thirty feet between them as they both dive headfirst toward the ground. The windows blur together but Peter’s focus is on Miles below him, who still has yet to shoot a web. 

In no time they’ve fallen over fifty stories and still Miles hasn’t attempted to shoot a web. Peter wonders if he’s frozen in fear, but doesn’t make a move to save him just yet.

“C’mon kid,  _ c’mon _ ,” he mutters.

EDITH sends Peter a warning signal, alerting him that he will need to shoot a web himself soon if he doesn’t want to end up a red and blue splat on the cement below. 

But it’s not just about saving himself, it’s about saving  _ the kid _ and so he aims one arm to send a web-net to catch Miles while the other aims for one of the nearby buildings. 

He’s about to shoot when suddenly Miles thrusts out an arm, sending a perfectly angled web at a side building. Dropping his web-net arm Peter follows the kid’s cue, and both of them are suddenly gliding right above the ground, weaving in and around and out of traffic and back again.

_ “I’m doing it!”  _ Miles screams back at him, and Peter doesn’t have to see his face to know he’s grinning.

Peter nods with his own hidden smile. Miles turns his head forward again and lets out a giant whoop, Peter calling out an answering one as the two of them soar through downtown Manhattan.

Peter had forgotten how as a teenager he spent hours doing just this - pushing his limits, seeing how far his powers could take him. He had forgotten just how much  _ fun  _ being Spider-Man used to be. 

But webbing around like this with Miles, it’s almost like he’s seeing the city through a new set of eyes. It’s exciting, it’s fun, it’s  _ exhilarating _ . 

Peter instantly feels fifteen years younger, like a cloud that had been following him around has lifted. He knows it won’t last, but he’s not going to let that worry him now.

Because right now, in this moment, he’s not Peter Parker: the hesitant SI heir, the strayed Avenger, the failed husband.

No, he’s not any of that.

He’s Spider-Man: son of Queens, protector of New York City, defender of the goddamn  _ universe _ .

And God, it feels fucking  _ amazing _ .

“It’s good to be back, EDITH,” he finds himself saying just as Miles ahead of him aims for a rooftop, stumbling a bit on the landing but staying on his feet.

“Where did you go, Peter?” EDITH asks.

Peter doesn’t give her an answer as just then he lands too. Miles has already pulled his mask up, and the pure  _ joy _ on his face is immeasurable.

“I did it!” he screams out at the traffic below, jumping up and down with a fist in the air, then turns back to Peter. “I did it!”

Peter lifts his mask too, knowing EDITH would alert him if it wasn’t safe. “You sure did, kid. I’m proud of you.”

If anything Miles’ grin goes wider, and before he knows it Peter is letting out an  _ oof  _ as 120 pounds of super-powered teenager wraps its arms around him.

“Thank you, Spider-Man,” Miles says. “That was so  _ cool _ .”

Peter freezes… 

_ You can’t get attached. It’s just another part of the job. You can’t get attached. It’s just another part of the job. You can’t get attached. It’s just- _

...and then wraps his arms around Miles too.

How in the hell did he ever think he could realistically fight letting himself care about the kid, anyway? 

Even Tony couldn’t manage that particular feat, despite holding out for months. 

Happy was right to doubt him. Peter didn’t even make it a week.

Yet it’s the best kind of failure, because unlike all his others lately, it feels  _ right. _

He pulls away to look Miles in the eyes. “My name’s Peter, kid. Peter Parker.”


	6. Ascending

_ “You didn’t save me.” Peter turns, eyes frantic as he tries and fails to grab at him - Prowler looking menacingly towards him. The glow of the purple eyes transform, Peter scrambling backwards.  _

_ Memories of Beck’s illusions haunt Peter, and Prowler shifts into the corpse of Iron Man-- of Tony.  _

_ “You didn’t save me, Pete.”  _

_ “Stop. Stop this.” Peter gasps, the Iron Man armor’s familiar whine filling his ears. _

_ “Stop what, Spider-Man?”  _

_ Peter hears a cackle in the background, glancing around until he feels as if he’s falling. He’s falling, endlessly, tumbling until he hits the ground with a thud.  _

_ “Peter!” He hears her before he sees her, looking up in a panic. _

_ “MJ!”  _

_ “PETER!” She yells for him, hands bound, the ropes around her tightening. Peter gets to his feet, running towards her. It feels as if he’s stuck in mud, the faster he tries to reach her, the more time slows down. _

_ “PETER! SAVE ME!”  _

_ “MJ!” Peter is grasping at her, arms outstretched as the room around him transforms to a warehouse all too familiar to him, Peter feeling the panic bubbling up in his stomach. _

_ “NO. Stop. Stop this. STOP.”  _

_ “You didn’t save me.” Peter’s eyes widen as he hears the gunshot reverberate through the warehouse, Peter suddenly holding her, the blood pooling underneath her.  _

_ “No, no, no, no. No, MJ, come on. Come on, please.” Peter’s cries go unanswered, her mouth slack and eyes glassy, Peter’s vision blurring.  _

_ “No, I fixed this. I fixed this, please. Michelle, please wake up. Wake up.” Peter’s sobs fill up the room, shaking as he holds her.  _

_ “Wake up, please. Michelle, please. Wake up. Wake up.” Then it shifts, Michelle transforming into Miles, his eyes just as cold.  _

_ The shock overwhelms Peter, shaking his head. “No, kid. Come on, no.”  _

_ Miles suddenly blinks, looks right at him, Peter panicking.  _

_ “Why didn’t you save me?”  _

Peter jumps out of bed with a start, sitting up, gasping. He immediately turns to the side of his bed, the side where Michelle would sleep and his heart skips a beat-- forgetting for a moment that she isn’t there.

His breath is the only sound in the room, Peter feeling as his heart racing as he braces himself against his knees, willing himself to breathe in and out. 

_ It’s just a dream. It was just a dream. _ Peter puts his head in his hands, slowly but surely feeling his frantic heart rate start to slow. 

He had to convince himself that it was just a dream now, the realization that Michelle not being there was his own damn fault. Peter had had nightmares for years before they’d gotten married, long before his European adventure. Yet the nightmares brought about from his ill-fated trip to Titan, the fallout from Beck’s illusions, Montana, Michelle--

Peter stops himself from reliving that memory, reminding himself that it was over. It was changed. Michelle wasn’t dead. His identity was still secret. He was safe. 

Peter’s breath is steady now, shaking himself awake as he glances at the time.  _ Early enough _ . He pulls the covers off them, slick with sweat as he swings his legs off the bed. As Peter braces himself on the edge of the bed, he closes his eyes, reminding himself what was real.

Michelle wasn’t dead. She was alive - not with him, not  _ here _ , but alive. It was his own fault that she wasn’t there, his refusal to talk about his nightmares becoming a long-running point of contention between them. 

It had started not long after they had started dating - the second time around, after his missing year - Peter convincing Michelle that his nightmares were nothing that he couldn’t handle. A decade between them, of nights frantically waking up, calling out for her, had only magnified Michelle’s concern for him. 

She’d plead with him to talk to her, to trust her enough to share what was wrong. But Peter had always dismissed it, Strange’s warnings coming back to haunt him every time. He didn’t want to risk it happening again, didn’t want to put her in danger - only to inadvertently push her away. 

Michelle was alive. But his own refusal to engage with her meant she wasn’t here with him. 

Peter sighs, lunging forward to get off the bed. 

_ Get your shit together, Parker. _

He walks towards the shower, turning the faucet on as he waits for it to get warm. As he strips off his clothes and gets in, his mind wanders back to Michelle. 

It shouldn’t have been so difficult, Peter knows he should’ve just told her the truth. A hint of the truth, just something to let her know how much he trusted her.

_ I can’t. _ He rinses off, thinking again to Strange’s words. 

How could he explain to Michelle that his nightmares revolved around her death? That he’d been granted a one time do-over, to change everything, only for him to have still fucked up everything around him? 

No. Peter couldn’t tell her that. 

He sighs, turning off the faucet and grabbing the towel hanging on the rack on his bathroom. Peter feels himself getting lost in the memory -  _ the nightmare _ \- once again, when his phone rings. 

He glances towards the time again, rushing over to the phone to check the caller ID. Peter’s eyes widen, the ending of his nightmare coming back to haunt him.

“Miles?” Peter answers, voice raised. 

“Uh, Mr. P? Hey, it’s me. Miles. Miles Morales.” 

“Yeah, kid, I know.” Peter waits, eyes narrowing. Miles didn’t call him often in the month he’s been training him - if at all - usually sending texts with a string of emojis that Peter could barely decipher. 

If Miles was calling, something was wrong.

“What happened?”

“I… uh, sort of maybe got… lightly stabbed?” The wince the Miles lets out through the phone causes Peter to sigh, the anger steadily rising as he throws his head back, cursing at the ceiling.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” 

* * *

“I can’t believe you,” Peter mutters for the hundredth time as he finishes stitching up Miles’ shoulder. “And quit squirming, I’m almost done.”

“I can’t help it!” Miles whines, wincing. “It  _ hurts _ , Mr. P.”

“Yeah, getting impaled with a knife usually does.”

Peter frowns as he washes blood off his hands, the sight of all the red running down the drain making his own blood boil again. 

“You’re damn lucky you have super-healing or this could have ended a lot differently, you know that? Seriously, what the hell were you thinking?”

“I was  _ thinking _ I didn’t want to see that girl get hurt,” Miles retorts. “And I already told you-- I didn’t mean to, I just came across the jerk threatening her and demanding her purse and I-I had to help!”

“No, you didn’t,” Peter snaps, gathering up all the bloody cotton balls and tossing them in the trash can, before turning back to the kid and pointing. “You didn’t  _ have _ to do anything, you chose to. Even after I told you that you weren’t ready for patrols yet! I had one rule, Miles. No playing Spider-Man yet. Not without me. And you broke it!”

Miles jumps off the counter, cradling his hurt arm. “Look, I said I was sorry-”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it!” Peter fumes, striding out of the bathroom, the kid on his heels as he starts to pace back and forth, voice tight with tension. 

“You’re not even close to having memorized the web combinations, we’ve barely even started combat training-- hell, you told me just last week you had to play off getting a damn piece of paper stuck to your toes… and now you do the  _ one _ thing I explicitly told you not to do.”

Peter pauses in his pacing as he looks away from Miles, tone low and tense. “You could have gotten someone  _ killed _ tonight, Miles. Going in when you’re not prepared can just as easily make things worse as they can help. Do you want that on your conscience, kid? Because I live with that guilt every day and I can tell you, it’s  _ hell _ .”

He looks up to the ceiling before putting a hand over his eyes and shaking his head. “What was I thinking? You're clearly not ready for this.”

“Oh and you were?” Miles shoots back, face going from apologetic to pissed faster than Peter can blink. “I looked up your age, man, and guess what? You were only one year older than me when you took down Iron Man’s plane and stopped the Vulture! But I guess it’s totally okay when it’s you, right? Just not me.”

Peter’s jaw tightens. “No, it wasn’t  _ okay _ , kid. It was dumb and dangerous and I nearly got killed ten times over that night. Hell, I was lucky to have survived that long. I’d never have made it even that far if Mr. Stark hadn’t-”

He cuts himself off, painful memories shooting to the forefront of his mind. The ferry battle with the Vulture had been one of the worst days of his life up to that point, and it still made his stomach roil with shame to remember how disappointed Tony had been. 

Because his mentor had  _ told _ him to stay out of it, and Peter hadn’t listened. Tony had been right that day on the roof - it was a miracle nobody had died… and God, it could have only been mere weeks before that when he’d almost drowned in the Hudson.

Wherever Tony is, Peter imagines he must be taking a ridiculous amount of pleasure in seeing Peter trying to mentor his own stubborn, self-sacrificing teenage superhero. 

_ Karma is a bitch, huh, kiddo? _

He looks back at Miles to see the fight has left the kid, his eyes watching Peter with concern and a hint of trepidation. Peter takes a deep breath. 

“Look, kid. Miles. I know what it feels like to have these brand-new powers. To feel like you’re invincible because of them. But take it from me: you’re not. You can still get hurt, or worse. And ever since the moment I agreed to train you, to help you out… I feel like it’s on me if anything does happen to you.”

Peter pauses, considering his next words carefully. “So I need you to promise me you won't take a risk like that again, or else I'm going to have to seriously re-evaluate exactly what we’re doing here.”

The kid’s eyes fill with tears as he takes in Peter's grave expression. He sinks down on the ratty living room couch, still cradling his injured arm as he stares at the floor. Something like resignation haunts his eyes when he turns his gaze up to Peter once more.

“I-I can’t do that. How am I supposed to just turn the other way when someone is getting hurt, when I know I can help? That’s just, that’s not fair of you to ask me to do that.”

Peter opens his mouth, ready to argue, but his words die in his throat when Miles continues with a wet voice, volume barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry, Mr. P., but I can’t - I  _ won’t _ promise to stop. E-even if that means you can’t be my mentor anymore.”

For someone with so much conviction, the kid couldn’t sound more miserable.  Peter’s own high-pitched adolescent voice echoes in his ears just then.  _ When you can do the things that I can, but you don't… _

This kid really is just like him.

_ Shit _ . He’s so fucked.

Miles must have mistaken Peter’s silent self-recriminations for confirmation of his worst fears, because he starts to stand up, walking right past Peter and making for the front door. “Bye, Mr. P. I'm really sorry I let you down.”

_ No _ , Peter thinks as the kid reaches for the door handle. 

Because while he might be really pissed off at the kid there's no way Peter is letting him walk out that door to face all  _ this _ on his own again. He may not be Iron Man but he’s still all this kid’s got in the lonely world of being a vigilante.

“Stop,” he whispers, and Miles’ grip on the handle stills but he doesn't move.

“Miles, look at me.”

The kid hesitantly turns around, face crumpled like he’s two seconds from sobbing.

It’s time to handle this like a pro, Peter decides. Like  _ the _ pro. 

He’s still no Iron Man, that’s for certain, but he did learn from the best. 

It'll have to do.

“I’ll admit, kid, you make a good point. Any smart and seasoned vigilante would let you walk out right about now for being so unapologetically reckless.”

Miles drops his head even further, his gaze burning a tearful hole into the floor. With a soft smile, Peter walks over, putting a hand on the teen’s uninjured shoulder.

“But luckily for you, I’m a dumbass too, or so pretty much everyone in my life constantly tells me.” Peter thinks of Michelle, the pain of it slightly tempered by the memory of her smile, the eye rolls she’d give him when he’d say something stupid. 

Miles’ head whips up, eyes wide. “So... you’re still going to mentor me?”

Peter smirks, rolling his eyes. “Well if you won’t look out for yourself, someone has to, right? Besides, us dumbasses gotta stick together.”

Miles’ look of disbelief doesn't lessen. “You-- you really mean it? You're not dropping me? But I thought you said - “

“I said I'd have to re-evaluate, not that I would abandon you.” Peter squeezes the kid’s shoulder for emphasis. “I'm  _ never _ going to abandon you, Miles, no matter what you do, alright? I meant it when I said I would be your mentor, and that means even when you insist on being a punk with a deathwish. I’ll always be here for you. You got that?”

Miles nods slowly, eyes still wide as he looks up at Peter.

“I need to hear you say it, kid.”

“I got you, Mr. P.”

“Good.” Peter gives him a long reassuring look before he slowly continues, “But if you're not going to stop, we’re going to make sure you have as many tools as we can to keep you as safe as possible, alright? Which means that a trip to my lab is in order.”

Miles’ jaw drops. “You mean like, at the Avengers compound?”

Peter inwardly winces, but doesn’t let his smile falter. “No, uh, not quite. I mean my personal lab at SI headquarters. It’s where I develop all my suit gadgets and fabrications.”

“Oh, cool! Does that mean I get to help?”

“Only if you promise not to break anything.”

“Well, uh, my mom says I'm really clumsy but I promise I'll be careful!”

Peter winces dramatically. “Great, that's all I need. Between you and DUM-E, the lab won't last another week.”

“Uh, who?”

* * *

“Mr. P., did you see what DUM-E just did?”

“Sorry, kid, I’m afraid I missed that. As I said no more than three minutes ago, I’m still a little busy double-checking the sequencing,” Peter answers from the side room in his lab where he keeps all his Spider-Man tech hidden from prying eyes.

He continues to input commands into the nanosuit fabrication chamber, not even glancing over at where Miles sits by DUM-E in the main lab area. 

“He got me a coke out of the mini-fridge!”

Peter smiles, keeping his eyes focused on the tube interface. “Ah, yeah. He’s very good at that. Just don’t ask him to make you a smoothie.”

“DUM-E! You can make _ smoothies? _ ”

Peter rolls his eyes, amused yet refusing to let Miles’ distracting enthusiasm derail him. He’d been working on crafting a custom nanosuit prototype for the kid for over a week, but today was Miles’ first visit to the lab and he really wanted to have something for the kid to try on before he had to go home.

Peter had to admit, it was a bit weird to have someone in his personal lab with him as he worked. Of all SI employees, only Pepper and the retired Happy had access to enter without his express permission. In his early years at SI, Michelle would stop by occasionally for lunch and sometimes stay for a few hours doing her own thing while he worked, but Peter couldn’t remember the last time that had happened-- probably five or more years ago. 

And as for working on his Spider-Man gear alongside someone, there had been nobody to fill that void since Tony died.

In short, Peter had gotten used to being on his own in here, and even thought he’d come to prefer it. But listening to Miles laugh as DUM-E creates a mess in the kitchenette, he can’t say he really minds the company.

After about twenty more minutes (during which Peter had not even glanced up while Miles and DUM-E had mopped up chunks of far-flung strawberry and banana not once but  _ twice _ ) the command sequence was complete. 

“How’s it looking, E?”

“Sequence is confirmed, Peter. I estimate eighteen minutes for the fabrication and coding process to complete.”

Peter sets down his pad. “Hey, kid, come on over here.”

Miles pats DUM-E on the head before bounding over from the main lab. “Is it ready?”

“Sure is, we just need to put in the final command to proceed with the nanite coding sequence and we’re done. You want to do the honors?”

“Seriously?”

The look of wide-eyed wonder Miles gives Peter at that moment reminds him of all the kids at the fundraisers he appeared at as Spider-Man when May was still working to assist those displaced in the wake of the blip. At first they hadn’t been so bad, but eventually he started finding excuses not to be able to attend the functions until finally May just quit asking. 

He’s still not sure what compelled him to do that, looking back on it now. If it was one bad fight where civilians died, or a series of them. If it was something more personal to Peter Parker. Peter just knows he quit wanting to go when the gazes of childish adoration stopped filling him with pride and made his stomach twist with shame instead.

Looking at Miles now, though, he doesn’t get that same ache in his gut. Because Miles isn’t looking at Spider-Man like that, he’s looking at  _ Peter _ . There’s no superhero mask to wear, no dazzling feats of last-minute saves, no gods or aliens at his side. 

It’s just Peter that Miles is looking at with such awe. And somehow, instead of scaring Peter like he thought it would, it only makes him feel brave. Like he would do anything to keep that look in the kid’s eyes. 

_ Is this what it felt like for Tony? _

Peter shakes the thought before it can dampen his mood, bringing himself back to the present, where Miles is still grinning at him.

“Yes, seriously. Alright, so. You’re gonna press INPUT, then TASKS. Good, now type in 6-2-4. Hit COMPLETE, then ENTER.”

Miles follows Peter’s instructions and immediately the machine whirs to life. It’s not very impressive yet - just a swirling grey storm of nanites, all of which are indistinguishable to the naked eye - but Miles looks utterly fascinated, and something warm settles in Peter’s chest watching him. 

The lab doors whoosh open just then, and Peter turns to see Pepper walk in, looking around before she catches sight of the two only to pause, a confused but kind expression on her face.

“Peter, I didn’t realize you had company,” she says as she walks over, Miles turning to face her with wide eyes before giving Peter a worried look as he glances back at the suit that is slowly taking shape in the tube.

“Hey Pepper,” Peter greets easily, smiling at Miles reassuringly. “Pepper, meet Miles Morales. Miles, meet Pepper Potts-Stark, my boss and one of the few who knows about Spider-Man. You can trust her, I promise.”

Miles immediately relaxes, grinning and taking Pepper’s hand when she holds it out.

“Nice to meet you, Miles,” she says with a soft smile. “And you can call me Pepper. Any friend of Peter’s is a friend of mine.”

“Nice to meet you, Pepper,” Miles replies politely.

Pepper turns to Peter. “Can we talk for a minute?”

Peter looks at Miles, who is already back to watching his suit’s formation process, no less amazed. “You good here, kid?”

Miles waves them off, not even turning to look.

Peter gestures to the main lab area, and immediately when they enter it the Spider-Man side lab disappears behind them, nanites forming into what looks like a regular, empty wall.

As soon as it closes Pepper rounds on Peter. “I came to see if you’ve given my proposal any more thought but I have to ask, what’s up with the kid?”

Peter sighs. “I caught him weeks back trying to take down Fisk in nothing but a store-bought costume. Then it turned out it wasn’t just a gimmick-- the kid has powers like mine, maybe even some I don’t.”

Pepper gives him a disbelieving face. “I didn’t realize there were more--”

“Me either. Speaking of,” he says to himself, “I should really find out how that happened. Do some bloodwork, strength tests, the whole shebang. I wonder if Tony kept a list somewhere of everything we did back in ‘17, I need to make sure we don’t miss anything. . .”

Peter strokes his chin, trying to remember all Tony had him do back then, before glancing back at the empty wall with a fond look. When he turns back to Pepper she’s smiling at him, arms crossed.

“So, he’s just an intern, huh?”

Peter gives her a hard stare, but even he knows it’s unconvincing. “ _ Yes _ , Pepper. He was gonna get himself killed if I let him keep going like that. Who would I be if I didn’t at least try to train him up, make sure he knows the ropes?”

Pepper quirks an eyebrow. “Who, indeed.”

Peter scoffs. “First Happy, now you. . . This isn’t like when I met Tony, alright? For one, the kid has two  _ very _ alive,  _ very _ loving parents. For another, I’m definitely not going to be asking him to join any top-level superhero organizations right out of the gate. I just want to make sure he’s safe when he’s swinging about the city saving cats and stopping car thieves. Maybe check in once in a while for suit upgrades. But that’s where I draw the line.”

It’s clear from Pepper’s expression he’s not fooling anyone. Peter rubs at his face.

“It’s that obvious, is it?”

“It kinda is, kid.” Pepper gives a small chuckle before sobering just enough that the next words are spoken with clear conviction. “He’d be so proud of you, Peter.”

Peter can’t bring himself to respond with his real thoughts on the matter, so he just nods, looking away. Pepper seems to get the message.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it.” She leans in for a hug that seems to last just a beat longer than normal before pulling away and walking toward the door. “Bring Miles over for dinner sometime soon, will you? I’d love to get to know him better.”

She doesn’t mention that Peter hasn’t come over for dinner in months, for which he’s grateful. “Sure thing, Pepper.”

The doors automatically slide closed, and Peter lets out a long sigh. He takes a few deep breaths before stepping back toward the wall, the nanites sliding away like liquid to reveal Miles exactly where Peter left him, watching wide-eyed as the tube completes the last of the coding sequence.

“Alright kid, you ready to try this thing on?”


	7. Awakening

“Okay kid, how many cans do you see?”

“Six.”

“Right. Now I want you to take them all down at the same time.”

Miles stares dumbly at Peter’s handiwork, before his head swivels around to his mentor. Peter doesn’t have to be able to see the teen’s face beneath his new,  _ super _ -improved mask to know the kid is giving him a look of disbelief.

“But Mister--”

“Nuh-uh-uh,” Peter interrupts. “What do you call me when we’re in the field and near citizens?”

“Sorry, Spider-Man.”

“Excuse me?”

Miles’ mask lenses roll. “Sorry, Master Jedi,” he replies, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“That’s right, young padawan,” Peter teases with a smirk while Miles mutters something about  _ stupid old movies _ . 

Over the last few weeks Peter had slowly assisted Miles with working through the Training Wheels protocol, unlocking and introducing each suit capability to the kid one at a time. The new nano-suit was intuitive enough that Peter knew he probably could have left Miles to mostly figure it all out himself. 

But after the  _ light stabbing _ debacle his protective instincts had flared up worse than his pre-bite acne and he couldn’t bring himself to let the kid loose on the city streets just yet. So now, they met up twice a week for a few hours of pre-dawn training, when the city was at its quietest and before Miles had to go to class.

Peter crosses his arms. “Now you were saying?”

Miles motions to the six dangling tin cans Peter had webbed all around the end of the back of the alley they’re currently using for training. “But-- I can’t hit  _ all six cans _ with just two web blasts! Even with web-cannons on my soles, I’d still only be able to do four.”

Miles’ lenses go comically wide. “Wait, are there web-cannons on my  _ soles _ ?”

Peter chuckles, shaking his head as Miles balances on one foot while scrutinizing the bottom of the other.

“Nah, kid. I included something even better. Now, I want you to pick two cans to aim singular webs at and then I want you to  _ envision _ reaching out and getting the other four. Do you think you can do that?”

Miles shrugs. “Sounds dumb, but whatever.”

Peter rolls his eyes and makes a  _ go on _ gesture.

Miles turns to the cans, throwing up his hands and aiming for the two closest ones while he eyes the others. “Okay, uh,  _ envisioning _ hitting all the cans in three, two, one--”

Just as Miles shoots two perfectly-aimed webs, four metal arms each with a spike on the end shoot out of the suit’s back, piercing the four remaining cans before drawing back to hand them to Miles who gasps, focus darting around between each of them before arching his neck to look at his back and turning to Peter.

“Are those--”

“Ridiculously intuitive retractable arms? Why yes, they are. Or as I like to call them-- spider-legs.”

_ “Spider-legs,” _ Miles repeats breathlessly, looking back at the metal arms in awe. “That’s  _ so cool _ , Mist-- I mean, Mast--ugh. That's so cool,  _ man _ .”

“You’re welcome, padawan,” Peter replies cheekily. “Now what do you say we--  _ sunflower! _ ”

Without thinking Miles drops down low, before lifting his head and looking every which way.

“Where is it? What’s wrong?”

Peter lifts his mask just enough so that there’s no way Miles will miss his smirk. “Nothing, just testing you. Gotta see if you’ve been practicing those  _ codewords _ you insisted on.”

The week before, Miles had started insisting they find codewords to use for commands like ‘drop!’ or ‘behind you!’ After some ribbing, Peter had agreed to the idea, but then - perhaps somewhat naively - he’d assigned Miles the job of coming up with the code. 

He still wasn’t entirely sure where  _ sunflower  _ came from, besides that it was a song the kid was obsessed with and couldn’t stop singing to save his life. Peter wouldn’t have minded so much, except that the words of the song seemed to change every day. He made a mental note to look up the actual lyrics later.

“Seriously, man? I told you the codewords are for when things get  _ serious _ !”

Peter gave Miles his best impression of old Principal Morita. “Young man, are you saying you don’t take our training time seriously?”

Miles huffs. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Big word for such a tiny spider-baby.”

“Hey!”

Peter looks down at Miles’ sleek web-shooters. “Speaking of official Spider-Man lingo, I must have missed the memo that shooters are now-- what did you call them-- ‘cannons’?”

Miles shrugs again. “Yeah, cannons. Y’know, like graffiti slang?”

Peter quirks an eyebrow. “You’ll have to enlighten me, kid. I can barely do paint by numbers, nevermind pull a Banksy.”

“Cannons are just another word for an artist’s spray paint cans. Which reminds me of--” 

Miles aimlessly sends a web at the wall of one of the alley side-buildings.

“--that. See?”

Peter nods, taking in the blob of white webbing against the dark red of the brick. 

“Makes sense,” he responds, then checks the fluid levels on his own pair. “Alright, kid, let’s take those spider-legs of yours out for a spin, shall we?”

* * *

A few hours later - after Miles nearly skewers himself countless times with the legs, and damn, Peter  _ really _ hopes that one pigeon’s okay - they’re on a rooftop in Brooklyn, watching the sunrise. 

“So I take it graffiti’s a hobby of yours?” Peter casually asks after a few minutes, just to make conversation.

“I mean, not really? I like to draw a lot, but I haven’t really done much graffiti.” Peter doesn’t miss the way the kid’s shoulders slump before he softly adds, “At least, not since Uncle Aaron died.” 

The kid’s lenses narrow suddenly, and Peter catches him opening his mouth, closing it again. Open, close.

He puts a hand on Miles’ shoulder. “What is it, underoos?”

Miles turns to face him. “It’s just, sometimes I wish so _ much _ I’d been there when Fisk hurt him. Maybe then I could’ve stopped it, could’ve saved him...”

Miles balls his fists, wrapping his arms around his middle. Peter waits, knows instinctively the kid’s not finished.

“But then, part of me also thinks... at least I can’t  _ really _ blame myself, y’know? Because I wasn’t there. But what if I had been there and he’d still died? Then I’d have to live with that, and I don’t... I don’t think I’m strong enough for that. Strong enough to lose like that.”

Miles looks down at his lap, and there’s a tremor in his voice as he quietly confesses, “I know I told you that I just want to help people, that you couldn’t stop me, and that’s all still true, I _swear_. But then I think about what you said after I got hurt, about all the guilt you live with over the people you couldn’t save. And I guess I also feel like-- like I’m not cut out for all this. Like I’m not brave enough. Not like you, anyway.”

Even as Peter tightens his grip on the kid’s shoulder he nods in understanding, grimacing inwardly. 

Miles has it backwards, he thinks. Because Miles is everything good and kind in this world. Yes, he wants to avenge his uncle’s death, but more than that Peter knows he just wants to save people, like the Avengers he’s watched swoop and fly and shoot on his television screen.

Peter might be Spider-Man, but Miles was the one who had the makings of a real hero.

Because it’s not _the_ _ kid _ who has a laundry list of failures to his name. It’s not _the_ _ kid _ who has saved countless strangers but can’t seem to keep his own family safe. It’s not _the_ _ kid _ who avoids so much as breathing even one word about anything that truly scares him. In fact, the kid is sitting right here doing _exactly_ that. 

What can Peter possibly have to teach Miles that he doesn't already know about being brave? 

Peter’s no expert, that’s for damn sure.

But he has to find the right words somehow. Miles trusted him enough to share these feelings-- he can’t let him down.

Peter thinks for a few moments, and what he finally decides on surprises even him.

“Y’know, I had an uncle who was murdered, back when I was about your age. His name was Ben, and he and my aunt raised me after my parents died.”

Miles whips his head to Peter. “How’d he-- what happened?”

Peter looks up at the bright orange glow of the sunrise, the suit automatically shading the lenses to shield his eyes. “He was murdered in a bodega burglary. I was right there with him, saw the whole thing.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. P. That must of been awful.” 

“It was. For years I carried around a terrible guilt, thinking if only I hadn’t froze, Uncle Ben would still be alive. But then my mentor - Tony Stark - he told me something that’s stuck with me even up to now, even in my worst moments.” 

He can see Tony’s kind expression from that day, can feel the phantom touch of two fingers on his chin, remembers how they lifted Peter’s head up, demanding he look into Tony’s eyes so he could see the conviction there.

Peter swallows down the growing lump in his throat. “He told me that real bravery isn’t simply being courageous. It’s being scared shitless and still doing the thing you’re terrified of.”

He turns to look at Miles then, sees the kid slightly nod, still staring down at his hands where they lay limp in his lap. Peter lifts half his mask up for the second time that morning, revealing his mouth and part of his nose.

“Look at me, underoos.”

Miles does, and Peter gives him a soft half-smile, just one side of his lips quirking up.

“Listen, kiddo,” he continues. “This vigilante gig - if you choose to continue it, and I would never look down on you if you didn’t - well, you’re going to have a lot of times where you feel like you let people down. Like you weren’t good enough, or strong enough, or smart enough. And you’re going to doubt yourself.  _ A lot _ .”

Peter pauses, worrying at his lip for a moment, carefully choosing his words. 

“You won’t always be able to save everyone, that’s a given if you choose this life. I won’t lie to you-- even if you do your very best you could still lose someone that you care about.” The image of Michelle’s sightless, faraway look comes to Peter’s mind then, but he shakes it away. He can’t think about that right now. This isn't about him-- it's about Miles.

“But listen, you can’t let your fear stop you from doing what you know is right. And that’s not something that comes from your spidey powers, okay? That’s something that comes from here--”

Peter reaches out, gently pokes Miles’ forehead.

“--and here.” He lowers the hand, pressing it to Miles’ chest, right above his heart.

“It’s absolutely okay if you ever decide this isn’t something you want to do anymore, kid. But if that time comes, make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons, okay? Not just because you’re scared.”

Miles just keeps looking at him, and with the mask on Peter has no way of gauging where the kid’s head is at, or if his little speech worked. He’s worrying himself into a frenzy, unsure what else to add when Miles’ mask suddenly lifts to reveal the bottom half of his own face, a shit-eating grin planted on it.

“Wow, Mr. P. Do you have kids? Because that was quite the Dad Talk. You’d give mine a run for his money any day.”

Peter lets out a surprised laugh, knocks his shoulder against the spiderling’s. “Does your dad ever end his talks with calling you a little shit? Cuz kid, you’re definitely a little shit.” Miles laughs, the sound bright enough to match the morning sun.

Peter smiles, then adds before he can stop himself, “And no, I don’t have kids, for the record.”

The kid’s lenses widen, surprised at the admission. “Oh yeah? What about a girlfriend?”

Peter sighs exasperatedly. “No.”

“Boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Do you just date… casually?”

Peter scoffs. “No, kid, fucking hell. If I give you an answer will you stop asking questions?”

“Maybe?”

“I’m married.”

The kid’s lips thin. “But, Mr. P., I was at your apartment and--”

“Yeah, kid, I realize that. We’re on, well, a break of sorts,” Peter rambles. “She doesn’t-- we’re just trying to figure some stuff out. Just temporarily. For a little while. I think.”

“Well, that’s dumb.”

Peter whips his head to Miles, then lets out a giant huff. “Oh sure, because a fourteen year-old knows  _ so much _ about marriage. Enlighten me, O Wise One, on why taking a break while we figure some stuff out is so, as you put it,  _ dumb _ .”

“Well, do you want to stay married?”

Peter clamps his mouth shut. “Yeah, I do,” he finally mutters after a few moments.

“And does she?”

“...I don’t know.”

“So you want to stay married, and she’s not sure? That’s the problem, right?”

“That’s a very,  _ very  _ simplistic way of summarizing the intricacies of what are complex relationship issues, kid. But sure, I guess you could say that’s the problem.”

“Okay. Well, you said yourself that you can’t let being afraid stop you from doing what you think is right. So if you know you want to stay married, then what’s stopping you from doing everything you can to keep things that way?”

“Woah, hey now. What makes you think I’m already not?”

Miles rolls his eyes. “You guys aren’t even living together, Mr. P.”

_ You’re obviously not doing everything you can _ goes unsaid but is clearly heard.

Peter sighs. He has about ten witty retorts on his tongue but he keeps them to himself, because Miles is right.

He’s  _ not  _ doing everything he can to save his marriage with Michelle.

“Alright, Dr. Phil, so what do you propose I do about it?”

Miles shrugs. “That’s easy. Whatever she needs from you, you just find a way to give it to her.”

* * *

Peter finds himself sitting in the coffee shop again, he’d ordered from a ceramic cup this time - to prevent the same mess from before. 

He’s hoping it’ll be different than it was then, fingers tapping impatiently against the table as he waits for Michelle to show up.

Miles’ words rattle around his brain, Peter smirking at the idea that the kid was giving  _ him _ advice. He was a little shit, just as persistent and eager as Peter had been. Peter feels a whole new wave of empathy for Tony and Happy just then, reminding himself that he needs to send Happy some kind of gift for dealing with him all those years back. 

_ Thanks for putting up with me. But also you’re welcome, ‘cause now you’re my step-uncle?  _ Peter smirks, shaking the thought away.

Going into the time loop had done one thing right that had stuck, Peter thought - thinking of the happiness that May and Happy had found. Until recently, Peter had believed that maybe happy endings really did exist. 

Peter sighs, closing his eyes. 

The kid was right. It was his own fault that he and Michelle had gotten to this point, and he  _ wasn’t _ doing all that he could. He should’ve fought for her more, should’ve listened, should’ve talked--

The memory of that last fight starts to rattle around in his head, Peter wincing as he lets his mind wander. 

* * *

_“Peter, what’d I tell you? If we’re out of eggs, you have to_ _tell me.” Peter sighs, taking his mask off. Michelle notices he’s limping, Peter grimacing as she immediately goes to him. _

_ “What’s wrong?” _

_ “Nothing, MJ.” _

_ “It’s not nothing, Pete. You’re limping, tell me what’s--” _

_ “It’s fine.” Peter cuts her off, Michelle stiffening at the tension in Peter’s voice. Peter was aggravated, barely dodging a hit from an asshole in Rhino costume. _

_ Not quick enough, he thinks, waving Michelle away. _

_ But Michelle is stubborn, insistent that she gets a chance to take a look at him.  _

_ “Peter, if you don’t let me help--” _

_ “Help what, MJ? What? I can handle this okay, you need to get to work.” Michelle takes a deep breath, Peter already feeling the argument building in her mind. _

_ This was the fourth time he’d slipped in right before work, the fourth time he’d woken up from a nightmare - in a panic - only to rush off into the night and see what problems he could fix.  _

_ Each time Michelle would wake him up, eyes alert even as Peter could tell his thrashing about had woken her up.  _

_ Each time he’d dismiss her, shrug it and her off and disappear into the night. _

_ The nightmares had been a constant in his life, something Michelle had talked to him time and time again about going into therapy for.  _

_ But Peter would just push it off, every time.  _

_ It didn’t help that they’d gotten worse this past week, as they always did the anniversary of when he did the time loop.  _

_ He and Michelle’s relationship hadn’t unfolded like it did the first time around, but if anything - it had been better. Fury had handled Beck, making it possible that their European trip had become just that - a fun trip.  _

_ The black dahlia necklace was still one of Michelle’s favorite pieces of jewelry, even as his heart constricted at what had happened to the original one.  _

_ But the months, the years that they’d had building their relationship - Peter had never told her the truth of the time loop, promised himself after Strange’s warnings that he never would.  _

_ For some reason, this year had been a breaking point - Michelle getting more and more aggravated at his refusal to talk to her, at Peter refusing to stay with her - to just lay with her, hold her.  _

_ In their earlier years, when the nightmares had gotten so bad that he would wake up screaming, he would - content to just hold Michelle as if she was the only thing keeping him alive.  _

_ But now, over a decade since that awful year, all Peter could think of when he held her is how many other threats there were.  _

_ How many more ways he could lose her, how much more there was for them to lose - especially if Michelle’s hints about having kids were any indication.  _

_ Peter had always wanted to have kids, wanted to have kids with Michelle - but his nightmares gave him no rest, the possibility that not only would he be putting Michelle at risk, but their children. _

_ It was just another argument in a long line of many, one that had made their formerly easy relationship something of a minefield.  _

_ It’s this tension that bubbles over today, Peter watching as Michelle fumes.  _

_ “Work can wait, Peter.” Michelle says through gritted teeth, Peter pressing a hand to his side. “You’re hurt, and if you’ll just let me--” _

_ “You can’t be late, not again, not with Reynolds giving you shit like he has been. Come on, MJ. Go. I’ll be fine, I got it handled.” _

_ Michelle groans, throwing her hands up. _

_“That’s just it, Pete, you don’t_ _have it handled.” She gestures to him, taking a step toward him. _

_ “You act like you’re the only one in this relationship and I’m fucking sick of it. I’m your wife _ ,  _ Peter. Let me help you.”  _

_ “I don’t need--” _

_ “Oh of course, of course you don’t need help. You’re the amazing fucking Spider-Man right?”  _

_ Peter grits his teeth, standing straight even as the pain shoots through his side.  _

_ “Yeah, and I know by now what I can and can’t handle. Go to work, Michelle. Let me take care of this.” _

_ “It’s not, I’m not--” Michelle lets out a sharp exhale, Peter watching as she almost radiates with anger.  _

_ It’s silent for a few tense moments before Michelle speaks up again, the next words out of her mouth causing Peter to give her a double-take.  _

_ “If you don’t want to be with me anymore, just say it.” _

_ Peter shakes his head, mouth open. _

_ “Why the hell would you think that? I’m trying to make sure you don’t get fired.” _

_ “And I’m trying to be there for my fucking husband, Peter. But it’s like you don’t want that anymore? Like you don’t want… me.” Michelle’s voice breaks at the end of the sentence, Peter feeling like he’s been hit in the gut.  _

_ “Michelle, how could you say that? How could you even think that--” _

_ “Because you don’t even fucking look at me, Peter. You don’t talk to me, you haven’t for months _ . _ You’d rather almost get yourself killed than even talk to me for five damn minutes, after I wake you up from screaming like you’re being murdered and--” _

_ “Michelle--” Peter tries to stop her, wincing at the words. She couldn’t know that that was exactly what he was screaming about - not about his death, but of her own.  _

_ Of seeing her head snap back, the splatter of blood that horrified him, the knowledge that Peter hadn’t only been too late to stop it - but had caused it.  _

_ “No, Peter. No. You don’t get to just tell me to calm down, tell me that everything is fine when it’s not. It’s clearly NOT.”  _

_ Peter steps towards her, Michelle standing her ground. _

_ “I don’t know what you want from me, Michelle. You know the shit I have to deal with, know that sometimes I don’t want to talk about it, that I just want to be home, be here, with you.”  _

_ Michelle shakes her head. “But you’re not here, Peter, that’s just it.” _

_ “I’m here, I’m here all the time.” Michelle keeps shaking her head, Peter seeing how her eyes were filled with hurt. _

_ “Yeah, you’re here but YOU,” She points to his heart, poking him in the chest, “You are not here with me. Not anymore. It’s like… it’s like I don’t even know what you want me to do.”  _

_ “I don’t know what else you want from me, Michelle.” Peter snarls back, the pain from his fight and the guilt of the truth of what Michelle is saying motivating what he says next.  _

_ “I can’t be fucking everywhere at once.”  _

_ Michelle lets out a sharp laugh, not even trying to hold back the tear that escapes.  _

_ “I’m not asking you to be everywhere.” She looks down, eyes darting across the floor before bringing them back to Peter’s, a steely expression on her face.  _

_“I just wanted you to be_ _here. To let me be here with you. And if that’s too much for you, then you can leave.”_

_ Peter scoffs. “Leave? You were just saying you want me to--” _

_ “You need to leave, Peter. Now. Before I come back from work. I don’t care.” Michelle turns her back from him, grabbing her purse as Peter stares back at her dumbfounded.  _

_ “What are you saying?”  _

_ Michelle takes a deep breath, Peter noticing as her hand shakes.  _

_ “I’m saying that I need a break.” _

_ “A break? Michelle, come on--” Peter tries to scramble, the reality of what Michelle was proposing finally settling in.  _

_ “Get out, Peter. Please.” Michelle goes for the door, pausing before she leaves.  _

_ “You act like you don’t even want to be married to me anymore.” Michelle glances back to him, Peter feeling as if the wind had been taken out of him. _

_ “And I think… I need some time to figure out what I want, too.” _

_ Michelle left, shutting the door behind her - leaving Peter, for what would be the first of many days and nights - alone.  _

* * *

Peter sighs as he swirls the coffee cup around, beating himself over the head for how stupid he’d been. He had immediately tried to salvage things, pleaded with Michelle to listen.

But he couldn’t do what she asked - he couldn’t tell her about his nightmares, what kept him up at night.

Couldn’t let her be there with him when he could barely stand to think of it. 

It’d been six long and miserable months since their unofficial separation, Peter wishing he could go back and shake himself - try and stop that argument from ending the way that it did. 

But Peter also knew it was an argument that had been building for months if not years - Michelle’s patience and love for him something he’d taken for granted time and time again. 

He thinks that the time apart as good for them, if only for how much he realized he’d fucked up. He had a great thing with Michelle, a relationship that had made him feel as if they were destined to be together. 

But Miles was right. He hadn’t done enough to save it, hadn’t done enough to try and make it work. 

Peter watches as Michelle walks in once again, a tired look on her face as she walks up to him. 

He’d been doing a terrible job of fixing something that had been his fault. But if his time with the kid had taught him anything, it was that maybe Peter wasn’t as much of a fuck up as he’d thought. 

“Hey MJ.”

“What do you want, Peter?” He sighs, knowing how it has to look for Michelle - months of radio silence only for him to reach out again - it had to look suspicious to her. But he had to fix this, had to make this right. 

_ Something I should’ve done a long time ago. _

“I…” Peter doesn’t even know where to begin.

_ I’m sorry for making you feel like shit for a decade? Sorry for making you feel like I don’t want you? Sorry for making you think that I could ever live or even want to be without you? _

The look on Peter’s face must say what he can’t put into words, Michelle immediately sitting down - her whole posture changing.

“What’s wrong? What’s going on? Is everything okay with May?” 

Peter shakes his head, trying to get the words out. “I’m… I’m sorry.” 

Michelle’s eyebrows furrow. “For?”

“Everything. For everything.” Peter lets out a deep exhale, reaching a hand out to Michelle - hoping that she’ll take it. 

She glances at his hand, Peter watching as she seems to consider it before putting her hand into his. Peter laces his fingers through hers, squeezing. 

“I’ve been an asshole. For months. Years. And I’m sorry.” He glances up to Michelle, a neutral expression on her face even if Peter can see a glimmer of hope in her eyes. 

“I’m sorry, MJ.”

“Peter.”

“No… please let me, let me finish.” 

She does, waiting as Peter continues. 

“I, uh, I met a kid. He’s… he’s like me, you know.” His head tilts, her eyes widening. 

“And I’ve been mentoring him the past few months , trying to make sure he doesn’t get himself killed.” Michelle laughs, her grip in his hand tightening. 

“He’s a good kid, you’d like him. But he said something today that, that made me realize that all of this with us, it’s my fault.”

“Peter.” 

“It is, MJ. You were right, you always are. I don’t, I haven’t been talking to you. I haven’t told you, haven’t  _ showed _ you how much you mean to me, how much… how much I can’t live without you.” Peter searches her eyes, hoping that what he’s saying actually conveys the depth of how much he loves her. 

He loved her for years, would love her forever. Peter had split time in half for her, would do it again in a heartbeat. 

Miles was right. He wasn’t doing everything he could to save his relationship - but he was going to. 

“I want us to go back to the way we were, before all of this, before…” Peter sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t know, I just. I can’t keep doing this, Michelle. I can’t keep letting you think that there would ever be a world of mine that I’d want to live in that didn’t have you in it.”

Michelle can’t know the meaning of his words, Peter barely staving down the panic of his greatest nightmare as he sees her eyes start to glisten. 

“And if you’ll still have me, I-I want to show you. Take you out sometime, like old times.” Peter’s prepared to beg, ready to do whatever it takes to get Michelle to listen to him - but it seems Peter didn’t need to do that at all. 

“I’d like that.” 

Peter holds her hand even tighter, smiling. Seeing the tentative smile on Michelle’s face makes Peter’s heart soar. 

For the first time in months, Peter starts to feel something that feels a little like hope again. 


	8. Recognition

“Are you sure this is okay?” Miles whispered, Peter laughing. 

“Yeah, Miles you’re fine. Wait, did you wash your hands again?” Miles’ eyes widen, Peter seeing the panic in his face.

“I mean, I did when we first got here but then I touched the door. Oh my God, wait, let me go back and--” Peter laughs, holding Miles in place.

“I’m just messing with you, kid. You’ll be fine. Come on, she’s been asking about you.” Peter leads Miles in, slightly pushing him as they walk through the door.

May’s awake, sitting up in bed waiting. “Hello Miles.”

“H-hi, Mrs. Parker. Or wait, Mrs. Hogan? I don’t, I wasn’t--” May cuts him off, laughing. 

“May’s fine, it’s nice to meet you.” She nods toward Peter. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Miles’ eyes widen, a grin on his face that makes Peter smile as Miles turns to face him.

“You have? I mean, that’s cool, I’ve-I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

May beckons for Miles to come to her bedside, Peter watching as the kid settles in. May winks at Peter then turns to Miles.

“So do you have a tingle too, Miles?”

“A what?”

Peter scoffs, even as a grin pulls at the corners of his mouth. “For the love of God, May. _ Please _stop calling it that.”

May just gives Peter a mischievous smile as she beckon Miles to come closer.

Miles, the traitor, leans in with her as she whispers. “He thinks he’s quick but give me a banana and I’ll show you a thing or two.”

“Hey!” Miles laughs as May begins to explain, Peter just shaking his head. 

* * *

Miles leaves after an hour, Happy walking him out. Peter was glad for it, though he had no issue with taking the kid home - if only because it gave him some more time alone with May. Peter had been hesitant at first, bringing Miles to see her. May was right, he’d talked about Miles often and loved sharing stories with her about what the kid was doing - a distraction from the monotony May encountered in her day.

But for all the affection and care he had for the kid, all the reasons he was glad to have taken Miles under his wing, Peter had still wondered if it was a good idea. 

May was convinced otherwise. 

“He’s talkative.” 

Peter sighs, settling down in the seat next to her as May smiles. 

“Sorry, he gets excited.” May shakes her head, hand outstretched as Peter takes it.

“Didn’t mean it that way, kiddo. Just reminds me of someone else I used to know.” 

Peter half-smiles, softly squeezing May’s hand. “How are you doing?”

May lets out a sigh, looking around the room. “I’m okay, Peter. The nurses are kind, Happy’s here all the time.”

Peter winces, leaning forward. “I’m sorry, May, I should be here more often.” But May just shakes her head, gripping Peter’s hand tighter as she turns to him.

“Pete, it’s okay. I’m glad you’re doing well, out there helping Miles.” She smiles. 

“Sounds like you’re a good influence on him.” Peter doesn’t say anything, his mind going to all the things he still had to teach Miles, all the things and ways that Miles could still get hurt-- if Peter wasn’t good enough.

May must sense the shift in his thinking - as she always does - because she shakes his hand around, bringing his attention back to her. 

“What’s going on in there?”

Peter sighs again. “I just-- he looks up to me, tries to _ be _ like me and I just don’t feel…” Peter trails off but May seems to understand.

“You’re scared of messing things up.”

Peter’s mind goes to Michelle, a relationship he was trying to salvage - though he still wondered if it was too late. He thinks of Sam’s offer, his original failure that gave him the time loop, the countless other times he’d failed in saving someone - the memories of it pressing on him. 

Miles was barely fifteen, having just had his birthday a few weeks ago — Peter realizing more and more each day the magnitude of what Tony must have felt about mentoring Peter. The memory of him still ached, though less and less each day. The more time he spent with Miles, the more Peter would fall back on Tony - what he’d say, what he’d do, how’d approach any given situation. 

Peter wished he could ask him what he would do, how to keep Miles safe and protected. 

He still had May - though for how long, Peter didn’t know. 

“I just wish I wasn’t so scared all the time, wish I could be as strong as you or Tony had been. I look at Miles now and think God, what the hell was I thinking, going out in a suit and trying to stop crime at fifteen?” 

May laughs, Peter relishing the sound. 

“Yeah, kid you gave both of us a couple of mini-heart attacks. But Pete, whatever made you think we weren’t scared too?”

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Pete, we were terrified. Anytime you walked out that door, I was so scared to lose you.” Peter watches May as she continues, the grip of her hand still firm in his. 

“When we’re young, we want things to be certain. We look to the adults in our lives, think they can’t possibly be as terrified as we are.” May brings Peter’s hand closer to her, Peter leaning in as May speaks. 

“But then we get older and realize, nothing is certain. _ Everyone _ is terrified, Pete. We just get better at hiding it as we get older.” 

Peter lets the words sit for a moment, mind whirring as his eyes focused on her blanket. May presses forward. 

“You don’t have to have all the answers, kiddo. You just gotta be there for him.” Peter glances up to her face, seeing the look of love in her eyes. 

“Just be there, be _ present _. That’s all you can do.” 

* * *

_ Be present. Be present. Be present. _

It runs in an endless loop in his head as he walks past a few stalls, keeping his hands awkwardly by his side as Michelle walks beside him. 

They were at her favorite Sunday market, their third date in as many days. They were both dancing around each other, Peter feeling just like he had all those years ago - back before the time loop, when he and Michelle were still testing the boundaries. 

Michelle had no memory of those moments, would never remember what that had been like - yet Peter’s struck with the parallel, how his life seemed destined to repeat over and over again.

He shudders involuntarily, willing the thought away as Michelle glances to him.

“Are you cold?”

“No, it’s fine.”

“You should’ve grabbed a jacket.”

“Yes _ mom _.” Peter jokes then freezes, uncertain if they’d gotten to that point yet. 

They’d stayed at the coffee shop for hours that first day, Peter telling her all about Miles. He couldn’t help but feel pleased at how she looked at him, as if Michelle was seeing him in a new light - even then.

Peter had asked a thousand questions in return, gently prodding her to tell him more of what he’d missed in her life. Though he never mentioned it, Peter had a feeling Michelle knew he watched out over her - filling in the blanks for stories and situations that Peter shouldn’t have known otherwise.

But Peter didn’t try to pretend that he didn’t follow her around for months and Michelle didn’t call him out on it. 

The next two dates passed in a blur, Peter feeling as if they’d fallen right back into step with each other. The chemistry was still there, Peter’s heartbeat thrumming loudly in his ears anytime she moved closer to him - smiling at hearing how Michelle’s beat faster when he walked up to her before a movie.

But aside from holding her hand or pushing her hair out of her face, Peter kept his hands to himself.

He loved Michelle and missed being with her, in every way - but Peter knew that if they had any chance of making their relationship work, she had to be the one to initiate it. 

Michelle’s laugh brings him out of his thoughts, grinning at the sound of it. 

“If I was your mother, Peter, this whole outing would take on an entirely different meaning.”

“You never did like that dragon show huh?”

Michelle rolled her eyes. “Unlike you, I have better uses for my time.” The smirk on her face makes Peter feel like he’s walking on air, joking back with her.

“Oh yeah, I’m a total freeloader. Just wasting my time, day in and day out.”

“Your words, not mine.” Michelle smiles back at him as they walk, Peter sensing her hand brushing up against his. He can hear her heartbeat quicken, Peter tentatively flexing his fingers over hers.

She takes it, lacing her fingers through his, though her face stays forward - looking as if she was trying to find another booth. 

Peter smiled to himself than to her, letting her lead him forward. He’d go anywhere with Michelle. 

And he’d spend a lifetime proving it to her. 

* * *

“How did May find out you were Spider-Man?”

Peter looks up at Miles, his neck aching from being hunched over reworking old C++ coding for the last few hours. Miles is sitting at a workbench Peter cleared off for him after his first visit to SI, studying a list of his suit capabilities Peter had assigned him.

Peter gives a small chuckle. “She caught me sneaking back into the apartment in my suit, not long after everything went down with the Vulture. She was pretty pissed off, to say the least.”

“But she let you keep being Spider-Man anyway?”

Peter nods. “Only after some very long and difficult discussions with both me and Tony. And afterward I had more rules to follow-- curfews, patrolling restrictions, things like that. But yeah, she came around pretty fast and ended up being my-- my biggest fan.”

He sighs, palming his chin. The thought of losing May - even after seeing her steep decline the last few months, even knowing it could happen any day now - still feels unfathomable to him. 

He focuses back on Miles who is looking down at his hands, seemingly lost in thought. “Why do you ask, underoos?”

Miles chews his lip, looking uncertain. “I guess I’ve just been thinking lately about how to tell my parents, y’know? Or if I even should.”

Peter stands up and walks over to Miles’ bench, plopping down on a nearby stool. “Well, you already know my rules on that, kiddo. You have to tell your parents before you’re allowed to patrol by yourself.”

When Peter had first told Miles his decision about telling the kid’s parents, the teen had been absolutely against the idea, arguing that there was no way his dad would agree to it. Peter understood the kid’s worries, having already accepted that he would respect their decision if his parents told Peter to stay away. 

But Peter was optimistic he could convince them with the same argument that Tony and Peter had used on May-- that Miles was going to keep doing this regardless of their wishes, and because of that it was better for the kid to have all the protection and mentoring he could get.

Peter continues, “But you don’t have to do it alone-- I’ll be right there with you, if you want me to be.”

Miles gives a bitter laugh. “I, uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mr. P.”

“Why not?”

“My dad, he kinda… hates Spider-Man?”

Peter’s eyebrows furrow. Despite how NYPD sometimes resents him for getting involved in their investigations, he actually tends to have a really good relationship with the local law enforcement. “Any particular reason?”

Miles looks away, looking almost ashamed to be sharing this with Peter. “I’m not sure, he won’t really talk about it. But I think it has something to do with Uncle Aaron’s death-- like he seems to think it was your fault? But that doesn’t make any sense either, since I know they found him at Fisk’s place-- that secret underground Manhattan lab, or whatever. I mean, you weren’t even there, right?”

Peter’s stomach churns, and he suddenly feels nauseous. _ No way, it can’t be… can it? _

“Miles,” he croaks out, throat suddenly dry, “what was your uncle’s last name?”

“Davis. Why?”

Peter doesn’t answer, his mind frantically putting months of seemingly unconnected clues together. _ Oh god, how did I not fucking see this? How could I have missed it? _

And with that thought, Peter is suddenly thrust back to the night that led to him questioning being Spider-Man anymore. The night that pushed all the simmering issues with MJ to the forefront, culminating in her finally asking him to move out.

The night Aaron Davis - the Prowler - died.

* * *

_ Peter’s ten stories below Manhattan, in one of Fisk’s secret research labs-- well, a secret if you’re not Spider-Man. He’d been down here the week before, just for reconnaissance. He’d been worried Fisk was up to more gene manipulation research projects, or perhaps just some garden variety alien tech smuggling. _

_ The last thing he’d been expecting to find was a giant super-collider, capable of taking out all of New York City if even the tiniest thing went wrong. _

_ However, Fisk’s scientists were no match for Stark tech, and it hadn’t taken long for Peter to gather the intel he needed for EDITH to craft a virus that would take out the collider before it even got turned on. _

_ So here he is, climbing covertly across the ceiling of the machine’s chamber, looking for the panel he knows should be there. “Help me out, E.” _

_ “Four feet in front of you, Peter.” _

_ “Aha,” he says to himself when he finds it. “There it is.” _

_ Peter opens the input compartment with one hand, the other clutching the USB drive with the virus EDITH had programmed. _

_ “All right, time to take this thing out for good,” he whispers to himself as he reaches to plug it in. “Gotta get home in time for din--” _

_ Suddenly his spidey sense goes haywire, and he turns his head just in time to see the Prowler smash into him, the two of them flying through the air and trading hits. _

_ “Man, I was in the middle of something!” he cries just as they crash down in a tangle of limbs on a platform next to the collider’s spinning outer turbines. Peter gets up right away but the Prowler is just a little bit faster, and he shoots Peter with a purple repulsor blast-- sending him into the path of the spinning metal structure. _

_ Peter throws out an arm, straining but holding steady, and the turbines halt. “Okay, no more Mr. Nice Guy,” he grits out as he shoots a web with his free hand at the villain, pulling himself up and toward the criminal only for the Green Goblin to appear seemingly out of nowhere, throwing a cluster bomb that explodes only inches in front of Peter. The small submunitions pierce through the nanites of his suit, embedding into his chest and abdomen. _

_ Peter falls to the ground, clutching at his chest and coughing, lungs and ribs aching from the blast’s impact. The Prowler’s arm wraps around his neck and he hoists Peter up, claws digging into the tender flesh of his shoulder as the villian twists them to face the giant window of the control room. _

_ Peter can see Fisk inside, watching him. The man starts to speak, his voice filling up the chamber. _

_ “Why Spider-Man, you’re just in time. You like my new toy? It cost me a fortune. But hey, you can’t take it with you, right?” Fisk laughs. “Since you came all this way, you might as well stay for the grand finale. It’s going to open a portal to other timelines, places you can only dream of. It’ll be a hell of a fuckin’ light show-- you’re gonna love it! That’s not why I built it, though. I’m going to get my wife and son back.” _

_ Peter strains against the Prowler’s grip, but his lungs are still burning and he’s bleeding heavily from the bomb shrapnel, leaving him weakened. _

_ “Don’t do this, Fisk! You don’t know what it’ll do, it could kill us all!” _

_ Fisk ignores him, motioning to one of the scientists who presses a sequence of buttons. Suddenly the turbines of the collider begin to spin at triple the speed, the entire chamber lighting up as the necessary electricity is siphoned from the Manhattan power infrastructure. _

_ Peter watches in horror as the two primary turbines on opposite ends of the chamber release matching large multicolor beams, which meet in the middle of the room. The sound when the beams collide is enough to nearly deafen Peter but he powers through the pain, going limp in the Prowler’s arms before thrusting his body backward, causing the villain to fall back and stumble. _

_ The Goblin takes a swipe at him but Peter roundhouse kicks him off the platform, and the villain falls three stories down. He lands hard on the bottom of the chamber, unmoving. _

_ Suddenly the entire chamber begins to quake, giant ten-foot wide side panels falling off the chamber walls and crashing down below. Peter shoots a web, starting to swing back up toward the input compartment, having somehow hung onto the USB. _

_ He’s swinging up when once again the Prowler slams into him. The two of them grapple for purchase. Peter grabs at the Prowler’s side and pulls at his suit, ripping wires out of it. Suddenly the Prowler’s rocket boosters go dark, and the two of them are falling, heading straight for the center of the giant collider beam. Peter clutches the Prowler’s arm with one hand while trying to aim a web with his other. _

_ But he’s out of time, and both hero and villain cry out in pain as they fall into the beam’s light. _

_ Inside the beam is a swirling daze of light and color, Peter hardly able to take it all in. He can see the Prowler only ten or so feet beyond, thrashing about as he flickers in and out of their timeline. _

_ Peter can feel himself doing the same - world going from black to color to black again - and it’s like getting hit with a lightning bolt from Mjolnir every time. He can’t see anything but the dazzling movement of color, can’t feel anything besides pain. Distantly he hears Fisk scream, “Get them out of there!” _

_ The colors start to increase in velocity, blurring together until everything goes black once more only for him to pop into existence again, landing hard on his side. The colors are gone, and it’s quiet. Peter blinks open his eyes, immediately recognizing his surroundings. _

_ He’s in Tony’s old garage lab at the upstate lake cabin. Peter had used it himself for years when he visited Pepper and Morgan up there during his summers off from college. It’s not exactly the same as he remembers - it looks updated with 30s tech - but it’s still easily recognizable. _

_ Peter stands up slowly, assessing the suit damage. “E?” _

_ No answer. “Shit.” _

_ Perhaps if he can get EDITH back online he can figure out how he got here - wherever _ here _ is, and then make his way back to-- _

_ “Pete?” _

_ Peter freezes, head whipping up, eyes bugging out before he does a 180 to see-- but, it can’t be-- it can’t-- _

_ “Tony?” _

_ Tony Stark stands in the doorway of the garage. But it’s not Tony as Peter ever knew him. This Tony has gray hair with a goatee to match. The crow’s feet around his eyes are more prominent as his eyes scrunch up in concern, taking in Peter’s disheveled state. _

_ “Pete, are you okay? And how did you get here? I thought you, Michelle and the kiddos weren’t due for another few days?” _

_ Peter can’t speak, he can barely process what he’s seeing as he stumbles forward toward Tony, a whine escaping out of his throat. _

_ Tony’s eyes widen in alarm and he rushes forward just in time to catch Peter as he falls to the ground, nearly blacking out from either his injuries or the shock of being confronted with his long-dead mentor. _

_ It can’t be real, he knows it can’t. _

_ But then Peter is wrapped up in Tony’s arms, the man clutching at him as they both land on their knees. Tony wraps his hands around Peter’s biceps, pulling away to look him over. _

_ “Pete, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Karen, what’s wrong with him? Pull back the mask.” _

_ The nanites in the mask don’t retract at Tony’s command, the entire suit offline in this-- this other timeline? Dimension? Peter has no idea. _

_ But it doesn’t matter. Fisk, the collider, the Prowler, the fight-- none of it matters. Because Tony’s here, _ alive _ , with Peter. _

_ “Tony,” Peter says again, voice barely a whisper. “Tony.” _

_ Tony’s eyes soften. “I’m here, underoos. I’m here for you, always. Just tell me what’s wrong and we’ll figure this--” _

_ Suddenly Peter is yanked out of the man’s arms and into the black-- _

_ “NO!” _

_ \--and then it’s the daze of color and light once more, and Peter’s back in the beam until-- _

_ BOOM. _

_ The beam explodes in a burst of blinding white light, the blast careening Peter and the Prowler in opposite directions. _

_ Peter hits the wall hard, and everything goes dark. _

* * *

_ He wakes up to near silence. _

_ “T-tony?” he asks, his vision blurry. _

_ “Just me, Peter,” E responds, and the memories slam back into him. Fisk, the collider, the Prowler, _ Tony _ \-- _

_ He can’t think about that right now. He _ can’t. _ He has a job to do. _

_ He blinks a few times, the devastation before him becoming clear. The chamber is almost completely destroyed-- and from the look of it, so is the collider. _

_ But Peter has to be sure. He focuses, trying to listen for heartbeats, only hears a lone weak one. Is everyone else dead? _

_ Although every limb protests, he stands up, aiming a web and propelling himself up to the platform he’d fought the Prowler on earlier. He peers through the broken window and into the control room, but there’s nobody there, alive or otherwise. _

_ “Damn.” So Fisk got away again. Great. _

_ Peter aims another web, this time for the ceiling. He gets there easily this time, and nobody stops him as he plugs the USB into its proper slot, downloading the virus and ensuring the machine can never be used again. _

_ “EDITH, inform NYPD to get down here, pronto. Who knows, might still be some evidence that can help them take down Fisk.” _

_ “Yes, Peter.” _

_ Just then the lone heartbeat Peter heard before stutters, and Peter webs down into the debris at the bottom of the chamber, tracking the sound to its owner. _

_ He’s not prepared for who he finds. Aaron Davis - a criminal yet kind man he hasn’t encountered but for once in a parking lot twenty years ago - lays on the ground, surrounded by the now-unrecognizable remains of the Prowler suit. A large piece of jagged metal protrudes from his abdomen, and his breaths are winded as he glances up with drooping eyelids at Peter. _

_ “You’ve come a long way... since you took on the Vulture, man,” he says with a chuckle, coughing up blood. _

_ “You have too, though not the direction I was hoping,” Peter replies, kneeling down to assess the man’s condition. “E?” _

_ “The damage to his liver and stomach are severe, Peter. I estimate roughly two minutes before expiration.” _

_ So Aaron’s going to die, Peter thinks, his suit mask flowing away at the thought. _

_ Aaron’s eyes widen as the nanites retract, taking Peter in. “You’re still… pretty ballsy, I see. Good-- the city… it needs you.” _

_ “Why, Aaron?” Peter asks the man imploringly. “I thought you didn’t want violence, I thought you had a nephew--” _

_ “I do,” Aaron interrupts, coughing yet again, voice strained and quiet. “Then for over five years… he was dead-- barely six months old and poof! Snapped… along with my brother, his wife-- everyone I… cared about. So I snapped too… fell in with Fisk’s crew. Then the Avengers brought everyone back, and… man, I tried to get out. I did. But Fisk knew about… my nephew, knew about my family, and he said he… he would kill them if--” _

_ A violent cough wracks Aaron’s body, more blood dripping from his lips. Peter puts a hand on his shoulder, steadying him. _

_ “I guess I did it for… the same reason you do, S-Spider-Man… I had people… worth protecting. Maybe we’re not… so different, after all.” _

_ Before Peter can respond-- before he can even think of what to say-- Aaron’s slowing heart pumps its final beats. His eyes drift away from Peter as his head sags forward, lungs pushing out one last breath. _

_ And then he’s gone. _

_ “A-Aaron?” _

_ The sob that claws out of Peter’s throat when the man doesn’t answer is unexpected, the sound of it startling him. But once he registers he’s crying he can’t seem to stop, chest heaving as he falls back on his butt, wrapping his arms around his knees and lowering his head. _

_Wilson Fisk getting away, Aaron Davis dying, seeing Tony_ _alive and well but not _here_\-- it’s all too much._

I can’t do this anymore, _ Peter thinks as he softly cries, _I can’t, I’m done.

_ “Spider-Man, what the hell are-- Aaron?” _

_ Peter’s mask is back over his head in an instant, his cries immediately dying down in his fear and haste. _

_ Thank god he had his head down and was turned away, he thinks as he jumps up to find a police officer staring at Aaron in shock. _

_ They stand in silence for a moment before the police offer looks over at Peter accusingly. “What did you--” _

_ Peter doesn’t answer-- doesn’t know _ how _ to answer after everything that’s happened. So instead he turns away, aiming a web for the ceiling vent he’d used to get inside the chamber in the first place. _

_ “Get the fuck back here!” _

_ But Peter doesn’t go back. Instead he runs and he runs, and he doesn’t stop running even when he’s home with Michelle, safe in bed. Not until the day he meets an over-eager super-powered kid from Brooklyn-- a kid who changes everything. _

* * *

“Mr. P? Yo, earth to Mr. P!”

Peter’s head snaps up as he comes back to himself. That’s right-- he was in the lab with Miles.

Miles, the nephew of Aaron Davis.

God, the universe really is out to get him. _ Fuck. _

“Sorry, underoos. Spaced out for a second there.”

“Yeah, I’d say,” Miles says with a hint of suspicion. “So did you know him?”

“Who?”

“My uncle.”

Peter takes in a sharp breath. God, how to even answer that? And what will Miles think, if he hears about what really happened?

No, Peter decides. Better to withhold for now, at least until he gets a chance to talk to Miles’ dad-- to explain what really happened that night.

He’ll tell Miles the truth, he _ will. _ Just not yet.

“No, can’t say I did, kid.”

Miles gives a long sigh, looking sad. “Yeah, I figured… if you did, you’d’ve told me.”

Peter doesn’t respond to that, already thinking about the damage control he’ll have to do when he _ does _ eventually tell Miles the truth. 

Time to change the subject. “Hey, I got a surprise for you. Someone I want you to meet, actually.”

Miles perks up. “Oh yeah, who? Are they coming here?”

“They’re here already.” Peter smiles at Miles’ confused frown, standing up from his stool and hunching over the console where he was going over his old friend’s coding. He types in a few final commands, then steps back.

“EDITH, please wake UI D-929.”

Five seconds later a soft, familiar voice comes over the lab speakers. “Good evening Peter. How may I be of assistance?”

“Hi Karen,” Peter responds, before turning to look at Miles, who is staring up at the ceiling in wonder. “Actually, it’s not me you’ll be assisting anymore. Say hello to Miles Morales, Spider-Man 2.0.”


	9. Acceptance

“You’re out of milk.”

Michelle gives him a look as she walks towards the kitchen, Peter smirking as he let his eyes linger on her as she passed by him. Michelle goes to turn on the coffee pot only to pause, turning to face him.

“You made coffee?” 

Peter nods, taking another bite of his cereal. Michelle just smiles at him, going for the cup Peter had already laid out for her. 

It wasn’t the first time that he’d stayed over at Michelle’s - at _ their _ \- apartment in the past few weeks, but it was the first time since he’d been with her again that he’d had a nightmare in the middle of the night. 

Peter had woken up in a panic, Michelle immediately pressing a hand to his chest. But unlike the months and years before, the urge to run was gone. 

As Peter watched her pour some coffee into her mug, he remembers how relieved Michelle had seemed that Peter wasn’t going to run away - how he’d just leaned back, opening his arms to her as she snuggled closer. Even as his heart had raced - the recurring nightmare of Michelle’s lifeless eyes staring back to him, of Prowler’s last moments haunting him - Peter hadn’t really needed to force himself to stay, choosing instead to wrap his arms around Michelle tighter as she leaned into him. 

He’d spent months away from her because of his own fears. Peter didn’t plan on messing up again.

“So what’s the plan for today?”

Peter smiles as she walks to their little dining table, looking at her up and down. Michelle settles into the chair across from him, crossing her long legs as Peter continued to watch her.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Peter just smiled, letting his eyes linger on her legs before meeting her eyes, “Just admiring the view.”

Michelle laughed, taking a sip of her coffee. “Well you can admire later. I have another deadline to meet and I can’t afford for you—“ she points to him with her mug, “to distract me.”

“I thought you liked it when I distracted you.” Michelle’s eyes lit up at Peter’s tone, a smirk on her face.

“I didn’t say I didn’t.” Michelle winks at him, taking another sip as her leg brushed up against his. “I’m saying that I have to do some work first.”

Peter says nothing, smiling as he took another bite of his cereal. 

He forgot how easy it was with Michelle, a sense of comfortable companionship that he knew he’d missed - but just hadn’t realized how much until she was gone.

In the lonelier nights, back when they’d first separated, all Peter could focus on was how difficult and tense their relationship had felt - dancing around each other until they had felt more like strangers than lovers.

Now Peter thought, it was as if no time had passed at all - falling back into an easy rhythm with her, in more ways than one. He hadn’t officially moved back in - nor would he be the first one to bring it up, knowing Michelle had asked for him to leave in the first place. But it was nice to be back home, to feel at home with Michelle. 

“What do you have to write for work? Anything I can help with?” 

Michelle squints at him, Peter smirking as he got up from the table to put his bowl in the sink. He could feel Michelle’s gaze on him as he walked past - not so subtly flexing his arms as he rinsed his dish. 

He hears Michelle’s chair as it scrapes across the floor, coming up beside him as she puts her mug in the sink. Peter says nothing as he rinses that too, still feeling her gaze on him as he puts them both in the dishwasher. 

“Peter.”

“Yes?” He wipes his hand on the towel she has there, only turning to face her when puts her hand to his torso. 

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Oh really?” Peter smiles, leaning away from her as he put his back to the sink. “And what _ exactly _am I doing?” 

A look that Peter recognizes flashes behind her eyes, a stirring in his gut as she leans closer to him. 

“I have a deadline.”

“I know.” Peter’s voice is low, keeping his eyes steady on her. Michelle sighs, bringing her arm around his waist again - turning him to face her again.

He loved Michelle, in a million ways - an entire timeline shattered at the thought of losing her forever. Peter had made a lot of mistakes in his life, but he was committed to proving to her that he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

Michelle had only wanted him to be there with her, to let her be there for him. Peter planned on showing her - in every way - that he was willing to do just that. 

“You’re impossible.”

“I’m yours.” Peter knows it’s cheesy, hearing the scoff Michelle gives only to be cut off when Peter crashes his lips onto hers. He knows he’s won when Michelle’s arms wrap around his neck.

Peter just laughs to himself - feeling the smile on her lips as lifts her up effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist as he lead them back to the bedroom.

This wasn’t the first time Peter had successfully distracted her since they’d reconciled. But as he leaned into the kiss, laying her gently on the bed as her hands traveled down the length of his back, he hoped to God that there’d never be a last. 

* * *

“Earth to Parker.”

“Hmm?” Peter looks up from his StarkPad, Michelle’s eyes still concentrated on her laptop. 

It was the middle of the afternoon, Michelle steadily working on the article she had pushed off that morning. Peter wished he could feel more guilty about earlier but the memory of them being together just warmed him from the inside out. 

Loving Michelle was the easiest thing in the world, came to him just like breathing - and he was glad that now - despite all the things he’d put her through - that he had the chance to make it right with her again. That she allowed him to be there, to show her, in any and every way. 

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Sorry, sorry, what did you say?”

Michelle glances up from the laptop, looking over her glasses. He knew Michelle hated how they looked on her, but Peter thought it was fitting - Michelle putting on her glasses to work reminded him of putting on his mask before he headed out. He’d never told her before, though he makes a mental note of it now, that he’d loved how no matter how different they were - they still had a small similarity between them. 

“Not that I’m complaining but, if you need to head out,” she gestured towards the window, “I understand.”

Peter shakes his head. “No, I’m good.” He smiles, looking back at her. 

“Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Michelle smiles back, biting her lip. She waits for a beat, Peter thinks for him to change his mind. When he doesn’t, Michelle just nods before bringing her attention back to her laptop.

It returns to a quiet, companionable silence, Peter’s mind wandering. He’d given a lot of thought to his life in the past few weeks - the past few months, really - and he’d meant it. 

Miles had been a little shit about it, but - in the way that all too smart for their own good teenagers were - he was right. Peter wanted to stay married to Michelle and now, being with her again - Peter got the sense that maybe she wanted to stay married to him too. 

“That actually reminds me, I wanted to ask you something.” 

Michelle’s eyebrows perk up, Peter continuing.

“I’m, uh, I was thinking about what you said last week. About SI and Pepper’s offer.” 

Michelle nods in response. “Yeah, Morgan mentioned that Pepper had been on your ass for awhile now.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Do you _ all _ just talk about me behind my back?”

“Oh yeah, there’s a group text. Morgan changes the name every other week, depending on whatever stupid shit you seem to get into.” The smirk on Michelle’s face makes Peter think she’s joking but there’s an earnestness there that makes him almost reconsider. “Did you end up deciding?” 

Peter taps the back of the StarkPad, pursing his lips.

“I think so. I don’t know, there’s a part of me that says it’s too much. I mean all this stuff with Miles makes me think that the city doesn’t need two Spider-Mans and as for the rest...” Peter glances up to Michelle, the glow from her laptop reflecting from the glasses, “I don’t know. You know Sam wants me to join the Avengers full-time.” 

“Well,” Michelle closes her laptop, Peter watching as she takes her glasses of before setting them both down on the coffee table. “What do you _ want _ to do?” 

He knows she has a deadline, Michelle wouldn’t lie about something like that. Yet Peter feels a twinge in his heart at watching her set her work aside - prioritizing him and this conversation, an act he still doesn’t feel he deserves. 

It makes Peter think that maybe he’s right. Maybe Michelle wants to stay married too. 

Peter lets out a sharp laugh, sighing. “What I want is to be sixteen again. Not having to worry about all of this shit.” 

Michelle nudges him with her foot, leaning against her head against her hand. “I think you forgot what you were like as a teenager. Life’s never been simple for you, Pete.”

Peter sighs again, putting the StarkPad down as he went for her foot - massaging it gently. “Yeah,” his eyebrows furrowed, “I know.”

Michelle’s quiet while Peter thinks, kneading his thumb across her foot. He’d miss this with her, quiet Saturday afternoons where they didn’t really have anywhere to go. Michelle was right, his problems weren’t any less simple now than they’d been when he was a teenager.

But being around Miles, the innocence and joy that he got out of learning how to use his powers - Peter missed that too.

As if she could read his mind, Michelle speaks up. 

“How is your little mini-me doing these days? Any chance I’ll finally get to meet him?” Peter laughs, pressing his thumb further into her foot. 

“He’s good, pain in my ass half the time. And yeah, if you want. He asks about _ you _ all the time.” 

“Oh yeah?” Michelle wiggles her foot out of Peter’s hold, leaning forward. 

“Yeah like how we met, what was our first date like, when we got married, you know.” Peter shrugged but couldn’t help but smile at seeing the look on Michelle’s face. 

“And what do you tell him?”

Peter sighs, feeling more content and happy than he’s felt in months. “The truth. How completely and utterly in love you were with me the minute you saw me.” 

“Wow, how does your mask fit that big ass head of yours?”

“You’d be surprised, nanite technology works wonders these days.” 

Michelle laughs, leaning forward - Peter meeting her halfway. The kiss is gentle, lingering for a moment before Michelle pulls back. 

“Hey wait, I wasn’t finished.”

Michelle grins, shoving him playfully. 

“Tell me more about SI. What do you want to do?” 

Peter bites his lip again, pressing them together as he thinks. 

“I think I want to do it. But, I…” Peter looks around the living room for a moment before settling his eyes back on Michelle. “I don’t know. And with what Sam’s asking...” Peter trails off for a second. 

“I didn’t want to just make the decision, _ any _ decision, without without talking to you first. 

Michelle smiles as if she was waiting for Peter to say just that, Peter hearing her heartbeat beat just a little faster. 

“Well we’re talking now.” 

“Yeah, but,” Peter adjust himself so he’s fully facing her. “I mean, we’re married, MJ. Whatever I decide to do, it won’t just affect me.” 

Michelle just waits, Peter pressing forward. 

“I don’t want it to be _ my _ decision… I want it to be ours.” 

It’s the first time either of them acknowledged their separation outright, the past few weeks feeling like they had when they were first started dating - all late night trysts and easy banter. But as much as Peter liked the idea of being sixteen again, of falling in love with Michelle all over again - he didn’t have to. 

He loved Michelle, he’d married her - and he hoped beyond hope that he didn’t have to convince her too much to stay with him.

Michelle moves forward on the couch, turning her back to him as she leaned against his chest, Peter bringing his arms around her. 

“I think you should follow your heart, Pete. I mean, I think you’d be great at SI. You’ve always loved it, I know it reminds you of Tony.”

Peter closes his eyes, Michelle running her fingers across his arm, pressing them - three taps that makes Peter smile. It was a thing they’d developed when they couldn’t speak in public, just a way for them to say - without words - “I love you”. Even there, holding her - it gave Peter just a little more hope. 

“And as for the Avengers thing, I mean, will you have time? With all of the SI stuff?” 

Peter sighed, tapping three times on her arm. “Yeah, it’ll be more like a part-time thing anyway. Less involved than patrols. More like--”

“Calling you out for the big things?”

Peter nods. “Yeah, basically.”

Michelle’s quiet for a minute, her hand still softly running across his forearm. Though Peter could anticipate anything because of spider-senses, he still finds himself surprised by three taps and her next words. 

“I’m with you, Pete. Whatever you decide.”

Though Peter knows the conversation was focused on his future at SI and with the Avengers, he can’t help but think there’s a double meaning there - a confirmation he gets when Michelle turns her head to look back up to him. 

Peter can see the look in her on her face, the love in her eyes so visceral that Peter feels as if his stomach is twisting in knots. He’d spent months hoping he’d get the chance to make it right with her, to fix what he’d messed up. 

Holding her close, on the couch she’d picked, in the apartment that they’d built a life together - Peter started to truly let himself believe that that hope was finally coming to life. 

* * *

The look on Pepper’s face when Peter walks through her office door is tentative, but she comes over from around her desk to give him a warm hug nevertheless.

“I’d say this was a surprise, but for once you actually scheduled through Laura,” she teases, stepping back.

Peter chuckles. “Yeah, I uh, thought this conversation needed to be a bit more formal, and reaching out to your assistant seemed the best way to do that.”

Pepper sits back down, motioning to Peter to do the same. “I will say, it’s a nice change of pace not to have to go to R&D to track you down.”

“Yeah, about that…” Peter starts, pausing when Pepper squints at him. “I have some news I wanted to share. A decision I’ve come to, actually.”

Pepper raises an eyebrow. “A decision about your future with SI?”

Peter takes a deep breath, giving her a small smile. “How did you guess?”

“I had a few clues,” Pepper replies dryly. “All right, quit drawing this out, kid. Just say it, I promise I can take--”

“My answer is yes.”

Pepper - ever the master of hiding outward reactions - doesn’t look _ surprised _, exactly. But her mouth opens just slightly, which Peter knows from experience is a tell that she has been caught completely off-guard.

“You’re sure, Peter?”

He nods determinedly. “I am. I’ve decided I want to stay and take over-- but only when you’re ready to retire.”

“It will take at least a year - probably longer - to prepare the company for the transition. And it’s going to mean a lot of changes for you starting almost from the get-go-- shadowing me of course, but also endless introductions, long meetings, business trips, late nights…” Pepper trails off, lips thinning even as her eyes stay hopeful. “A CEO’s work never ends, so I really need you to be absolutely certain, Peter. Because once we get the ball rolling on this, there’s not going to be any stopping it.”

Peter nods again, this time with a reassuring smile. “I’ve given it a lot of thought, Pepper. I know it’s going to mean a lot of changes in my life, and in Spider-Man’s. But I’ve talked about it a lot with Michelle, with Happy and May… they all agree this is the right decision, and so do I. Please believe me, I wouldn’t have told you if I wasn’t all in. My answer is yes.”

Pepper’s face breaks out in a wide grin, like a literal weight has been taken off her shoulders. She stands up again, coming around her desk to give Peter another hug-- this one tighter and lingering. She kisses him softly on the cheek when she pulls away, cupping his face in her hands.

“You have no idea how happy you’ve made me, Peter. Morgan has never had any desire to be at the helm and, well-- Tony always really wanted it to be you.”

Peter glances away. His first instinct is to insist that Tony was wrong about him, just as he’s told himself a million times in the last fifteen years. 

But what if Tony wasn’t wrong? Maybe if Peter quit fighting it and really _ tried _ to believe in himself - truly lived his life as if there was never a doubt he was worthy - he’d wake up one day and realize that maybe, just _ maybe _, Tony was on to something all those years ago.

Tony, May, Happy, Pepper, Morgan, Sam, Miles, even (_ thank god _) Michelle-- not one of them has given up on him. So why did he give up on himself?

_ And I wanted you to be better. _

No time like the present, Peter figures. He glances back up at Pepper - at her bright, loving expression - and offers a genuine smile in return.

“I’m going to make him proud, Pepper. I promise.”

* * *

“MJ, it’s so good to see you.”

“You too, May. I found that flower you were telling me about at the market the other day, it smells amazing.” 

Peter looked between the two of them, eyes dancing between them. “Did I miss something?”

Michelle just smiles as she settles into the chair beside May. “What, you think I’d miss out on our Sunday chats just cause we were going through some shit? Come on Parker, it’s not always about you.”

May laughs, Peter rubbing the back of his neck. 

“It’s about time you two got back together. I told Hap that you’d work it out.” May smiles at Michelle, Peter watching as she smiled back. 

“So when am I getting a grand-niece or nephew?” 

“May!” Peter balks, blushing as Michelle laughed. 

“Hey kid, you gotta minute?” Happy pokes his head in, Peter turning to him before looking back to May. 

May motions at him as if to say _ shoo _, looking back towards Michelle. “Go, I got some things to talk about with my girl here.” 

Peter gives a short nod, glancing back to Michelle who smiles at him before he turns to Happy, following him out of the room. Peter slowly closes the door behind him, immediately tensing at the look on Happy’s face.

“What’s going on?”

Happy sighs, shaking his head. “It’s not looking too good, Pete. Doctors say it’s only a matter of time before....” Happy trails off, Peter feeling his chest tightening.

“I mean, they’ve been saying that for weeks right? It’s-- she seems good.”

“Yeah, yeah she does. They call it the surge or something, some kind of energy before-- before everything.”

Peter feels his shoulders sag, closing his eyes as Happy goes to bring him into a hug. Peter returns it, a hug so fierce that it reminds him of the first time he hugged another Happy - in a long erased timeline, in a tulip field in the Netherlands. 

“I don’t think I’m ready for it.” 

Happy gives a sharp laugh, the sound of it muffled in Peter’s shoulder. “Me neither, Pete.” 

Happy leans out of the hug after a moment, putting a hand up to Peter’s shoulder. “So, you and MJ huh?”

Peter sniffs, nodding his head as he wiped away a tear. “Yeah, yeah, she-- she’s giving me another chance.”

“Never doubted that she would, kid.”

“Yeah, well.” Peter smiles, looking back up to Happy. “I did.” 

Happy says nothing, nodding his head toward some chairs in the hallway. “You doing alright, Pete? Something on your mind?”

Peter wrings his hands together as he sits down, bouncing his leg up and down. Peter had given a lot of thought to his life in the past few months and now, on the cusp of getting his life back together - just as May seemed ready to leave it - Peter’s mind couldn’t help but go back to Miles - to Prowler - and the lie that he’d given the kid. 

“You ever think you’re doing the right thing in the moment, only to second-guess yourself later?” 

Happy quirks his lips, looking at Peter with a curious expression on his face. “Anything specific you had in mind?”

Peter takes a deep breath, running his hands up and down his legs. He hadn’t told anyone about what had happened that night, not even Michelle. It was something that Peter had wrestled with in the back of his mind for weeks, wondering if he’d made a mistake in not being honest with Miles upfront. 

He always planned on telling Miles, even if he’d fucked it up in the moment. But now as more and more time passed, Peter wondered just how he could approach the topic without the kid hating him. Looking back at Happy, knowing that May and Michelle were in the other room - happy and whole, for the moment - it was as if a dam burst. 

Peter told Happy everything - the fight with the Goblin, the jump to some parallel universe and seeing Tony, Prowler dying and Peter running away, and Peter lying - point blank - to Miles’ face. 

When Peter’s finished, he watches as Happy tries to take in everything he’d said, leaning back in the chair as he took a deep breath. He’s quiet for an indeterminable time before turning back to Peter saying, “And you didn’t tell the kid?”

“No,” Peter shakes his head, sighing. “I wanted to protect him, I don’t think he knew what his uncle really did and if I told him how he died, what he was doing, it’d destroy him, Happy. He worshipped the ground he walked on and I can’t, I can’t let Miles’ memory of his uncle be tainted by that.” Peter takes another deep breath. “And… I mean, what would he think if he knew I was there, Hap? That I didn’t, I couldn’t…” Peter shakes his head. “That I didn’t save him.” 

Happy seems to consider that for a moment before bringing an arm around Peter’s shoulder. “But it bothers you that you haven’t told him.”

Peter nods. “Yeah, I just… I just want to keep him safe, Hap.” He turns to face him, seeing the understanding in Happy’s eyes. “He’s a good kid, I don’t want this to change anything between us.” 

Happy pats Peter on the shoulder, nodding as he says, “The kid is made of stronger stuff than you know, Pete. Has to be, if he’s anything like you.” 

Peter laughs, Happy continuing. “And you know, I can’t tell you what to do. Never could, not even when you were a snot-nosed brat.” Happy winks at Peter, before his expression turns to something more serious. 

“But I’ll tell you this, it’s better to be honest and upfront, let the kid know what you’re thinking instead of assuming he knows what you mean. You know that better than anyone.”

The memory of Peter’s failure at the ferry during his sophomore year comes back to him, the understanding that even if Tony had always watched out for him - he hadn’t outwardly expressed it by that point, the rage and anger he’d felt towards Tony still a painful memory. Peter just nods in return, head snapping up as Michelle walks up to them.

“Hey, May’s asking for you.” 

Happy pats Peter’s shoulder once more, motioning for him to go. He stands but before he goes, he turns back to Happy. “Thanks, Hap.” 

“Anytime, kid.”

* * *

**Master Jedi:** Hey kid, just a heads up. There’s something we need to talk about tomorrow. Don’t worry, it’s not about your little karaoke solo with DUM-E, I’m saving that for later when you have your first date. 

**Master Jedi:** Anyway, I’ll see you after school tomorrow. 

Peter sends the last text, putting his phone in his pocket. Michelle goes for his other hand, Peter taking it as they walk towards the subway. 

“So you got any plans tomorrow?”

Michelle smiles, nudging him with your elbow. “You know I have work. Like actual work, clocking into the office and all that.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Peter rubs the back of his neck, stopping just a few feet away from the subway stop - hating that they had to part ways. The weekend had been a nice reprieve, a step in more ways than one towards something almost like normal. But the weekend was over and even if Peter thought they were on the right path, he wouldn’t rush things. 

Michelle seems hesitant though, swinging his hand a little as she turns to face him. 

“You want to get dinner tomorrow night? Maybe a slice at Leon’s?” Peter asks. 

“No. I mean, yes.” Michelle stammered, Peter tilting his head as she shook her head. 

“How about breakfast?” Michelle bites her lip as she waits. 

Peter nodded slowly, trying to do the mental math for how long it would take him to get there from his place. 

“Yeah, I could swing that.” He laughed at his own joke, looking back to her. “I mean, we’ll probably have to meet a little earlier if that’s okay with you, I don’t want you to be late to work.”

“No, I mean… breakfast. At home.” 

Peter stills, searching Michelle’s eyes. The hope in them is so intense, Peter can taste it - a feeling he doesn’t understand, as if he would ever tell her no. 

“I mean yeah, of course. I’ll have to grab some stuff if you want me to stay over. As much as I know you like me walking around in the nude, I don’t think R&D will appreciate it.” 

Peter’s joke doesn’t land, Michelle just staring into his eyes, the faintest smile on her face. 

“You should grab some stuff.” A beat. “Or all of it.”

Peter’s heart feels like it skips a beat, a sharp inhale as his hold in Michelle’s hand tightens. 

“Is that, do you mean, I can--”

Michelle rushes forward, kissing him so fiercely that had it not been for Peter’s senses, he would’ve been blindsided. He closes his eyes, bringing one hand to her face while using the other to bring her closer to him. 

He can sense people scoffing behind them, rushing past as they walked towards the subway stop. But Peter can’t seem to care, completely and utterly lost in the moment with Michelle. 

They break -- too soon -- Peter almost breathless as he rests his forehead on hers. 

“Come home, Pete.” Peter grins, smiling even as his eyes closed. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

* * *

Later, holding Michelle in his arms as she slept, Peter looked up to the ceiling and sighed. Life had given him a shit hand, sometimes of his own making but mostly because of the universe just choosing to fuck him over. 

But now, feeling Michelle’s heartbeat against his chest, her arm draped around him, Peter could only be thankful that despite everything - he’d been given another chance. He thinks of May - how little time they had left together and how unprepared he was for it, though he could at least rest in knowing that when the time came - he wouldn’t be alone. 

Peter’s mind starts to wander as his eyes start to close, realizing that Miles had never texted him back. He makes a mental note to check on him again in the morning, wondering if the kid had gotten distracted with something - since Miles rarely left a text unanswered for longer than five minutes. 

Michelle stirs in her sleep, Peter settling back into his pillow. He’d figure out what was going on tomorrow. 

For now, Peter was content - fully and completely - as he drifted off to sleep.


	10. Reckoning.

Peter is finishing up a project in R&D when his watch pings. It’s a message from EDITH letting him know that Miles has arrived at the tower.

_ Shit _ \-- Peter had forgotten to text Miles again that morning. He’d never heard back after his texts yesterday, but clearly the kid was alright if he was there for their lab session.

After his talk with Happy, Peter knew he had to tell Miles the truth the minute they saw each other. He was prepared for Miles to be hurt, and probably angry-- but he was also optimistic he could get through to the kid by staying contrite yet matter-of-fact. 

Peter thought he could explain it by sharing essentially the truth-- that he’d only put it all together less than a month ago, and that he’d been unsure how to approach it-- unsure if it was a conversation best had with Miles’ dad first, with just Miles, or with them both at the same time. That he’d eventually realized it was unfair of him to hold it back-- that he knew Miles deserved the truth.

It wouldn’t be an easy conversation, and Peter wasn’t looking forward to it. But it was a necessary one-- and if Peter’s watch is correct, apparently going to happen even earlier than he planned on.

Peter looks up at the wall clock, double-checking the time. He and the kid weren’t due to meet in the lab for another hour and a half. Miles should still be in class, in fact. 

He hums a note of confusion as he puts away his R&D equipment and materials, before setting off for his personal lab. 

Miles is already there when Peter steps inside. He’s sitting at his workbench, open backpack laid out on top, staring down at the small case that housed his nanosuit.

He doesn’t look up when Peter enters, though Peter knows there’s no way the kid missed him.

“Hey underoos, surprised to see you here so early. Shouldn’t you be in Chemistry for another hour or so?”

“I skipped.”

The kid’s tone is curt, clipped in a way that gives Peter goosebumps. Miles still hasn’t turned around to face him. If Peter was confused before, he’s really thrown now. The only obvious thing he can deduce-- something is clearly wrong.

“Miles, you can’t just skip school, buddy. But I know you know that. So what’s going on? ‘Cause you don’t sound--”

“You must think I’m really stupid.”

“What? Why would you ever think--”

“Did you know that Karen has access to all of EDITH’s Spider-Man files?”

Peter’s eyebrows furrow at the sudden change in topic. He decides to roll with it. “Yeah, of course I did. I designed it that way so you’d be able to--”

“Did you know that includes your archived mask footage? Turns out all it takes for me to see what you’ve been up to in your suit is to ask Karen to show me.”

Peter lets out a surprised gasp, the blood in his veins turning to ice. Because no, he hadn’t realized. Or more accurately-- he hadn’t even given it a second thought when he wrote Karen’s updated code. Because Miles was his kind protege, his loyal kid, his trusted friend. Nothing was hidden from Miles, not when it came to Spider-Man. 

Except, of course, for the one  _ massive  _ thing that was. 

_ Shit shit SHIT-- _

Miles swivels around in his stool, finally turning to Peter. The look on his face is one of pure venom, and Peter actually takes a step back from seeing such dead-eyed fury directed at him from the kid. He’s never seen this side of Miles, not really. He’s not certain Miles ever has before either.

“Miles, I swear I was going to tell--”

“Y’know, that night when we talked about how my dad hates you, I could tell you were lying about not knowing my uncle. I figured afterward that maybe you ran into him a couple times on the streets. I’m not a total dumbass-- I know he was into some bad shit. But even though it was obvious you were hiding something, the one thing I told myself over and over was that whatever it was-- if it was really important you’d have told me the truth.”

The confused betrayal in Miles’ tone when he says that last part slices into Peter like a knife straight through his gut, tearing through all of his defenses. “Kid, just let me--”

“But then I just couldn’t stop thinking about it,” Miles continues, voice hard once more. “How you seemed so cagey, almost  _ scared _ of me finding out what was really up. Then last night I couldn’t help it anymore-- I got curious. So I asked Karen to show me footage from the night my uncle died. And lo and behold, turns out Spider-Man  _ was  _ there.”

Miles abruptly stands up, stool crashing to the floor as he stalks over to Peter and pokes him in the chest with his free hand.

“You were  _ there _ , Mr. P. And not only that, you let my uncle die!”

“It wasn’t like that. Miles, please just listen to--”

“If it wasn’t like that, then why did you run away from my dad? Why did keep the truth from me for months? Why weren’t you honest when I straight up asked you? If it  _ wasn’t like that _ \-- why did you lie, Mr. P?”

Peter opens his mouth to respond but nothing comes out. All he can think is that Miles wasn’t supposed to find out this way-- that it wasn’t supposed to go like this. 

But now it has, and it’s all Peter’s fault, again.

_ It’s always his fault.  _

“Miles, I swear I was going to tell you the truth, tonight in fact--”

“Oh yeah, and I guess I’m just supposed to believe that, right?” The kid barks out a bitter laugh. “Damn Mr. P, you really  _ must  _ think I’m just some idiot kid from Brooklyn, huh? Well guess what, this idiot kid is  _ done _ caring what you think.”

Miles slams the nanosuit case into Peter’s chest, Peter’s fingers just barely clasping it before the kid turns around and stalks over to his backpack, angrily zipping it shut. 

“I really looked up to you, man, but now it’s obvious-- you’re just another has-been who’s full of shit.” 

Peter stares down at the case in shock, only shaking himself out of it when he hears the sound of the lab doors sliding open. He frantically chases after Miles as the kid stalks out the doors and down the hallway, apparently intent on storming out. Peter runs past the kid, turning around and walking half-sideways so Miles can see his face-- can see how honest he’s being, how ashamed he feels.

_ Too late for that, Parker _ .

“Miles, please,  _ please _ hear me out. I’m sorry, okay? I really was going to tell you the truth tonight-- I was going to explain all of it and I know it must seem like I don’t trust you or like I think you’re just a dumb kid, but none of that’s true, okay? I don’t expect you to forgive me but please at least give me a chance to explain.”

They reach the elevator, Miles punching the down arrow and refusing to acknowledge Peter.

Peter reaches out, puts a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “C’mon, underoos. Don’t go. I swear I never meant to hurt you-- I’m  _ sorry _ .”

The elevator dings and the doors open. Miles shakes off Peter’s hand and steps inside, finally looking at him. His eyes are filled with tears, pupils large dark pools of pain-- yet the anger from before is no less prominent.

“You’re nothing but a liar and a coward, Mr. P. I don’t want anything to do with you  _ ever  _ again. So stay the hell away from me-- before you get someone _ else _ I love killed.”

The doors close, and Miles is gone.

Peter stands there in shock and maybe a little bit of denial-- as if expecting the doors to suddenly reopen, Miles having changed his mind. But when the minutes continue to pass and the kid still doesn’t come back, it finally sinks in what just happened.

He looks down at the case in his hands. God, is this really it? Is the kid done with him for good?

Peter knows the answer, even if it kills him to admit it. Miles gave his  _ suit  _ back-- his favorite thing in the world. He clearly wants nothing more to do with Peter.

Peter starts to spiral, thinking of all that he’s lost. His parents, Ben, Tony, May soon enough-- _everyone_ leaves Peter. Michelle surely will again too, when she wises up and figures out Peter really wasn’t worth giving a second chance. That he wasn’t worth staying married to after all. It’s just a matter of time.

Everyone leaves him, one way or another, because the truth is-- being close to Peter Parker just means getting hurt. He’s a walking wrecking ball, leaving only pain and death in his wake.

And now Miles has left him too, but not before Peter managed to hurt him as well.

_ “Fuck!”  _ Peter yells, flinging Miles’ suit case at the wall where it leaves a dent before falling to the floor. Peter pulls at his hair, breaths ratcheting up as a panic attack threatens to overwhelm him.  _ “ _ Fuck, fuck--  _ goddamn it _ …”

Peter falls to his knees. He feels like a vise is locked tight around his chest, barely allowing him to take in air.

_ This is all my fault. All my fault. My fault. My fault. MY FAULT. _

Hours later, when the afternoon light has long since faded into darkness, Peter still hadn’t picked himself up from the floor - letting the shame roll over him in waves. 

* * *

Weeks go by. For Peter they pass in a sad daze, as though a permanent rain cloud has settled over his head.

Even as he is busy with his ever-growing list of responsibilities at SI, not to mention visiting May almost every day, his mind constantly wanders back to Miles-- how the kid’s doing, if he’s okay.

Who was Peter kidding? Of course the kid isn’t okay. How can he be after finding out his mentor - someone he really believed he could trust - had been lying to him about the death of his beloved uncle, a man who had never once let Miles down?

After all, if it had ever come out that Tony was somehow involved with Ben’s death and had kept it from him, Peter doesn’t think his reaction would have been to forgive. More likely it would have been something similar to Miles’, if he was honest. Maybe worse.

But no, Ben’s death was all on Peter. And even if Aaron Davis had been a villain in the practical sense, Peter couldn’t help but feel as if his death was on Peter too. Because if Peter had figured out a way to take Fisk down months or years ago, Aaron would probably still be alive-- looking out for Miles with his criminal days long behind him, just like he’d wanted in the first place.

It’s these thoughts that cast doubts in Peter’s mind every time he stares at his phone screen, wondering if he should call or text the kid. He wants nothing more than a chance to explain, but then-- does he really deserve one?

Maybe it would be better for everyone if he stayed the hell out Miles’ life, just like the kid had told him to. 

Needless to say, Peter wasn’t doing so great.

The one bright spot since the night Miles had stormed out of the tower had been Michelle. 

Moving back home had taken less than a day, a few hours at most. Peter didn’t care - the frustration over what had happened with Miles throwing him off his equilibrium. He couldn’t have planned it, but he was thankful - now more than ever - that he at least had Michelle by his side. Even if what happened with Miles made the hope that he could keep her dim slightly. 

Just like with Happy, Peter opened up to Michelle, telling her what had happened at Fisk’s lab and of his own guilt regarding Aaron’s death. For a moment he considered telling her everything - telling her about the time loop, the reason for why his nightmares had really begun, why he’d pushed her away - but Peter couldn’t bring himself to do it, Strange’s warning still rattling around his mind.

It’s a thought that terrified him, the idea that another secret - the secret of the time loop, the secret of Peter destroying an entire timeline to save her, that the Peter she knew had started their relationship with a year’s worth of knowledge and experience that he had ever shared - would destroy them too. 

For her part, Michelle seemed to understand - as Peter should’ve expected that she would - patiently allowing him to tell her what he felt comfortable with. He knew she could sense that there was more to the story, more secrets just under the surface - but she didn’t push it, even if Peter had the sense that it was a matter of time before he would have to tell her that too. 

His secret with Miles had cost him his relationship with the kid, but Peter couldn’t help but think that if he told Michelle this - it would cost her her life. 

Even with things at SI picking up - the preparation for becoming CEO being just as intense as Pepper had warned him it would be - and with being back home with Michelle, Peter felt as if things were spinning out of control, not even bothering to keep track of what the hell was going on with Fisk and Goblin. 

He still put in some hours as Spider-Man, going out on patrol for a few hours each night-- but there was no joy in it. Not when every time he sent a hand out, anytime he jumped off a building, anytime he saw some graffiti-- he thought of the kid. 

Even the alert of the Scorpion making an appearance after years of being underground - a chill running down his spine at the man who had murdered Michelle, even if it had been in another timeline - wasn’t enough to shake Peter out of his stupor. 

It’s enough that when Morgan joins he and Michelle for dinner one night, she calls him out on it. 

* * *

“Pete, you still with us?”

“Hmm?” Peter glances up, seeing as Michelle and Morgan look back to him expectantly. 

“Sorry, what was that?” They share a look, Peter’s eyes darting between them before they both turn back to him, Morgan speaking.

“Peter, you need to suck it up and reach out to Miles.”

“What?” Peter blinks a few times, setting his drink down. 

“You’ve been in a funk for the past three weeks and it’s all because of this bullshit with the kid.”

“Morgan--”

“No, listen to me Pete.” Morgan sighed, leaning to the side from her place on their armchair. She gets a look in her eyes that immediately reminds Peter of Tony-- the intensity of her stare and the way her lips press together, moving them to the side before continuing.

“You fucked up with Miles, should’ve told him the truth.” Peter winces but Morgan presses forward. “And now here you are, moping about it when you can fix it.”

Peter sighed again, shaking his head. “It’s not that--”

“Don’t tell me it’s not that simple, Peter. That’s what you said about--” Morgan nods her head towards Michelle, Peter rolling her eyes as Michelle laughed, “And look at you two now, just as lovesick and gross as I remember.”

“We’re not--” Michelle tries to say, Morgan putting a hand up.

“You are and it’s gross but it’s fine, I’m used to it. I grew up having to watch you two idiots be in love. That’s not the point here.” 

Peter sees Morgan lean forward, a knowing look on her face. “You know what you have to do to fix it, Pete. So just do it.”

Miles’ own words come back to him, the tone of Morgan’s voice reminding him of when the kid had suggested that Peter just needed to get out of his head and do whatever he needed to, to get Michelle back. It’s a painful memory, Peter fully letting himself feel the absence that Miles had left in his life.

“She’s right, Pete.” Michelle puts her hand on his, patting it gently three times. “You need to talk to him, see what you can do to fix this.”

“That’s just it, MJ. I can’t-I can’t  _ fix _ this. There’s nothing I can do to bring his uncle back, nothing I can do about lying to his face about being there.” Peter sighed, even as Michelle took his hand into hers.

She motions for him to look at her, Peter searching her eyes. “Maybe you can’t fix it, Peter but you have to be the one to reach out first. He’s a kid, he’s clearly going through a lot of shit and he needs you now more than ever.” 

Before Peter can protest, Michelle just squeezes his hand - pressing forward. “Even if he’s pushing you away, even if he doesn’t want to hear from you.  _ You _ have to be the one to try and make this right. Whatever way you can, Pete.”

It’s the most ironic thing to Peter, a slap in the face from the universe-- that Michelle’s own words mirror what Miles had said to him about reconciling with Michelle. Yet just as Miles had been right then, Michelle is right now. 

Peter has to be the one to reach out to Miles - and deal with the fallout however he can.

Peter looks meaningfully to Michelle and Morgan before loosening his grip on her hand, going for his phone. But before he can search for Miles’ contact, it rings - HAPPY flashing across the screen.

“Hey Hap, what’s going on?”

Peter stills, the voice on the other end more broken than Peter’s ever heard it before.

“It’s time, Pete. You need… you need to get here.”

* * *

Peter doesn’t remember the ride to the hospital, doesn’t remember riding up the elevator, greeting Happy or anyone else rushing in and out of May’s room.

All Peter can focus on now is holding May’s hand, hearing the soft and steady rhythm of her heartbeat - his own thundering in his ears so loud that he’s sure even May can hear it. 

He’d known this was coming for months, knew that even if Happy had called him to tell that it was almost  _ time _ that no one actually knew when the moment would happen. The last time he saw May she had been smiling, sitting upright and laughing and now, and now…

“Pete?” May’s voice is so soft that had it not been for his powers, Peter’s sure he wouldn’t hear it. He leans closer anyway, putting pressure in May’s palm.

“Hey, hey, I’m here.” 

“What’s wrong, baby? Are you okay?”

Peter lets out a sharp laugh, tears in his eyes. “You know, I’m the one who’s supposed to be asking  _ you _ that.” 

May smiles, Peter hating how labored her breathing sounded. “You’ll never stop being my kid.” She returns Peter grip, the slightest of pressure. “You’ll understand someday, when you have your own.” 

Peter closes his eyes, the idea of having kids so far away from his mind. His fears of having children weren’t the same as they had been before, transforming not just into how he’d felt if he couldn’t protect them but more into the fear of what he was facing now-- the fear that no matter what he did, no matter how much he could try and protect them, that he’d put any kid of his in the position of having to watch him die.

Peter knew it was the natural order of things, that the inverse was the true nightmare - for a parent to watch their child die.

But having lost so much and so many, Peter couldn’t think straight-- the grief of what he was about to lose ( _ again _ ) overwhelming him. 

It hits him then though that for May, she had lived that exact nightmare, the worst thing a parent could face - for five long years. 

“May, I’m… I’m so sorry.”   
  
“For what?” Peter opens his eyes, his vision blurry. 

“All these years and I never, I never asked you how it was… when I was gone.” May gives him a sad smile, Peter continuing.

“There’s so much I didn’t ask you, so much I want-- that I still want to  _ talk _ to you about and I can’t, I can’t even think of having kids without you being there, May.” Peter leans forward even more, sinking out of the chair so he’s on his knees by her bedside. 

“I can’t do this without you, May. I can’t.”

“You can, Peter.” May wheezes, bringing her hand out of his to cradle his face. “You can and you will.”

“But May…”

“You know how I know?” May’s voice is firmer now, still soft but stable enough for Peter to register the change.

“Because  _ I _ did. Tony and I both did, when you were gone.” 

Peter just waits, watching as May tries to gather her thoughts, glancing upwards. 

“It was miserable without you, Pete. I knew half the world had disappeared, Tony mentioned that the whole universe was struggling.” May’s eyes go from the ceiling back to his, running her thumb across his cheek. 

“But all of that didn’t matter to me because the only person in the world I cared about was gone.” 

Peter lets out a sob, the magnitude of what losing May would mean hitting him over and over again. 

“But you know, as much as I wanted it to, the world didn’t stop. The sun rose and set, the universe adjusted as much as it could.” 

May takes another unsteady breath, Peter feeling tears fall down his face as she continues. 

“It never got easier without you, kiddo.  _ Never. _ But Tony and I, we loved you so much. Tony loved you  _ so much _ , it made that grief just a little easier to bear. We lost five years without you because we had no choice, Pete. But you-- you have a choice.”

“May…”

“You made things right with MJ and I’m so proud of you for that. But this thing with Miles…” Peter stops, feeling like something was lodged in his throat. 

“How did you--”

“Happy told me, but even if he didn’t, I  _ know _ you, Pete. You’re my kid.” She softly laughs, bringing her hand away from his chin and back to his hand. 

“You have a choice, Pete.” May continued. “Don’t let five years go without making this right. Tony and I didn’t have a choice, but you do.” 

Peter brings his forehead down to her hand, tears drenching the back of her palm as he holds it tightly - wishing that he could will for her to stay. 

“May…”

“You have so many people who love you, Pete. So many who are rooting for you and cheering you on. Just because I won’t be here to see it doesn’t make it any less true.”

As Peter continues to sob, May’s other hand going to rest gently on his head, Peter wishes that just once - just  _ once _ \- in his life, he didn’t have to rely on the promise of love to sustain him. 

That for once, the universe could have mercy on him - and let him keep some small semblance of happiness. 

But even as May continues to whisper to him, her fingers softly threading through his hair - Peter knows all too well that even if he had fought and won against the universe once - there were some things he would never be able to change. 


	11. Uprising

Peter didn’t remember much of his parents’ funeral.

He remembered the itchy suit jacket he was wearing, May’s soft cries and Ben - hand trembling on his shoulder as they lowered them down into the ground - telling him that it was going to be okay.

It was a loss in Peter’s life, the first and arguably most devastating one - to be an orphan before you’ve even lost all your baby teeth. But Peter had so much other love, living with Ben and May - that it made it easier in a way, made it almost okay.

He remembered Ben’s funeral vividly, the suit that had been entirely too big for him and the deep aching in his gut that his uncle wasn’t only gone, but the all-consuming guilt that he had been the cause of it. The weather that day had mirrored his own heart, a cold and relentless downpour that has chilled Peter inside and out. 

He didn’t know how to make it out of it, but he knew that he at least still had May.

Tony’s funeral was almost a blur, Peter’s being lost in a haze of grief and confusion - having died and seemingly been brought back to life in hours when for the world it had been five years - only for the man he considered to be a mentor to hug him tightly on a battlefield, snap his fingers and die. Another person that Peter couldn’t save. It was colored even more by the added year to his life that no one else had - a constant reminder of what Peter had done to escape his greatest mistake. 

But of what he did remember, it had been the soft light of the afternoon sun - a quiet goodbye for a man who deserved far better than what the universe had given him. 

And he also remembered May - rubbing his back, holding him tight, letting him cry before leading them home.

For every loss, every funeral, every major event in Peter’s life - May had been there. 

It’s fitting then that May - who had given Peter a home filled with so much laughter and light and love - was buried on a day where the sunlight was bright and shining overhead, as if May was still trying to chase away the shadows and the darkness that Peter felt closing in on him. 

Happy hadn’t had an issue with burying her beside Ben, saying that he understood that love didn’t necessarily end in death. If Peter would’ve been capable of it, he would’ve argued - saying that the happiness she’s had with him was just as real, different and beautiful in a way that love after loss always was.

But Peter couldn’t, Michelle’s presence beside him being the only thing that kept him from jumping in after her - the crushing weight of being truly and completely alone, a fear that threatened to swallow him whole.

He wasn’t alone - Michelle, Pepper, Morgan and Happy’s presence there being reason enough to tell him that he had plenty to live for.

But May dying - Peter being completely incapable of stopping it - reminded Peter that when it came to parental figures, when it came to the people he desperately loved… he was destined to be left behind.

Michelle says nothing as people start to move away, Peter still staring at the hole in the ground where May’s casket was being lowered. Her arms are around him, her head leaning down on his shoulder as Peter holds back a sob, knowing it would be in vain. 

They stand there, for how long Peter doesn’t know until one of her hands comes up to his face, Michelle pressing a soft kiss on his cheek before gently tapping her fingers against his face three times.

Peter holds her other hand tighter, squeezing three times as Michelle gently pushes back his hair.

“I’m gonna give you a minute okay? I’ll be right here, I’m right here with you, Pete.”

Peter turns to look at her, his vision blurry as his lip trembled - overwhelmed with grief and with love and terror that this was his lot in life, to forever be the one left behind. To be the one who had become so practiced in goodbyes, that it made Peter’s hands shake.

He nods, Michelle bringing her hand to the back of his neck, pressing her forehead to his. They stay like this for a few moments before she kisses him, nodding once more.

Michelle lets go of his hand, walking towards where Pepper and the rest of them must be. Peter knows she’s giving him a gift, a chance to say goodbye to May without an audience or without having to pretend to be strong.

God, he loved her. He loved her since the moment he saw her, and it broke him that May - who had been the first one he told about his crush, long before he had ever told Ned - wasn’t there with him anymore.

“You were right, May. Marrying her was definitely one of my better ideas.” Peter lets out a laugh, thinking of how bright May’s smile had been when he told her he was going to propose - how radiant she had looked on his wedding day.

Peter’s is flooded with the memories he’ll never get to make now with May, the idea that he and Michelle would have kids someday - kids that May would never get to meet, never get to hold or kiss or love as fiercely as she had done for him. 

Peter almost thinks he’s going to lose it again when a familiar orange glow surrounds him, Peter blinking a few times before turning - seeing the face of a man he hadn’t seen in years.

“Strange?”

“Peter. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Peter is dumbfounded, confusion all over his face as Strange walks up to him- sending a glance over to Michelle who looks ready to march right back up to him.

He briefly shakes his head, looking back to Strange. “Thanks. Is there-is there something wrong?”

“You’ve faced a great loss, Peter. Is that not wrong enough?” Strange says, the kindness in his tone present even as Peter’s confusion grows.

He and Strange hadn’t interacted much since the time loop, meeting only briefly when handling a threat from a nascent group of Thanos followers a few years back.

For all of the trauma and pain in Peter’s life, Strange being beside him did nothing but remind him of the tragedy he’d spent years running from - Strange’s presence reminding him that if he hadn’t been granted a second chance, his life would’ve turned out much differently. 

“What are you doing here? No offense Strange but, we haven’t exactly talked much. Did you even know May?”

Strange looks over to where May’s casket lay before shaking his head. “I did not have the pleasure, no. But I know you Peter, and any woman who raised a man like you is worth honoring.”

Peter lets out a sharp laugh, Strange looking at him curiously. “A man like me? Hasn’t anyone told you lately, Strange? I’m a failure. Can’t be trusted.”

Strange considers him for a moment, turning to face him. 

“I’m sorry to hear that you feel that way, Peter.” 

It’s silent between them for a moment before Strange speaks again. 

“I believe I may have made a misstep with you, Peter. I… I should’ve have checked up on you more in these years.” 

“You did fine, Strange. I don’t need anymore help.” Peter says, the idea of gaining another mentor figure unappealing as he stared at May’s grave. 

“Be that as it may, I believe that even if we cannot change the past,” Peter’s breath hitches at Strange’s words, turning to him to see the knowing gaze in his eyes, “I believe that I would be remiss if I did not encourage you to change your future.” 

“Strange--”

“I cannot tell you what is to come, Peter. It would be… irresponsible.” Strange gets closer to him, almost whispering as Peter sees Michelle start to walk towards him. 

“You must trust those around you, Peter. Trust them completely.” Peter looks at Strange in confusion, knowing that there’s something he’s trying to tell him - even if Peter wishes that he wouldn’t speak in riddles for  _ once _ . 

“Strange, I don’t--”

“Trust the people around you, Peter. You need them.” 

Right before Michelle walks up, Strange gives one final warning. 

“Don’t let yourself be alone for what’s to come.”

* * *

By the time they make it back to the apartment, Peter is spent - emotionally and physically. He could tell Michelle wanted to ask him what Strange had said but didn’t, holding it back as she guided him to the car Pepper had sent to take them home. 

Peter knew, from a lifetime of attending funerals, that there was a wake to go to - rooms full of people who would want to give him their condolences and offer nice words about May. But Peter couldn’t handle that and Michelle -  _ God, he loved her _ \- seemed to understand. 

He’s not sure where everyone else from the funeral had went, assuming that he’d have to apologize to Happy about leaving him alone to deal with everyone but Peter couldn’t bring himself to care. 

He was alone. Again. Another person he loved buried in the ground. 

But then as Michelle helped strip off his coat, helped him out of his clothes and started the shower, it hit him. 

He wasn’t alone. 

He’d lost his parents. Lost Ben. Tony. And May. 

But Peter had Michelle. 

Peter lets the hot water roll over him, closing his eyes as he thinks back to Strange’s words. 

_ Don’t let yourself be alone for what’s to come. _

What the hell was to come? What the hell had Strange even meant, what was his point in showing up?

Peter hadn’t talked to Strange much in the decade since he’d given Peter the greatest gift that he could never repay but it seemed odd to him for Strange to show up at May’s funeral - only to leave him with a cryptic warning that Peter’s mind couldn’t comprehend. 

Peter turns the water off, feeling cold even as the steam from the shower clouds his vision - though whether it’s tears or steam, Peter’s not sure. 

He moves the curtain, seeing the towel Michelle had left for him and dries off before stepping into the bedroom - only to see his favorite sweatpants and hoodie laid out for him.

Peter’s cried several times but it’s this little act of tenderness, this small act of care that makes the tears rush back to him. 

He wasn’t alone. Even as his grief overwhelmed him and clouded all his other senses, Strange’s words suddenly made sense to him. 

Peter had Michelle. She’d chosen to stick by him.

And if he wanted to keep her, he had to tell Michelle the truth. 

Peter dresses quickly, walking out of the bedroom to see Michelle there on their couch, waiting. She offers him a tentative smile, Peter coming up to sit beside her - Michelle immediately reaching for his hand. 

“What do you need?” Peter squeezes her hand three times, bringing her closer to him until she’s curled up beside him, Peter leaning back on the couch as he held her. Michelle lets him, leaning her head against his chest as Peter’s arms wrap around her. 

Peter closes his eyes, Michelle’s heartbeat against his chest doing nothing to calm the storm within him. 

He had to tell her the truth, about everything - the time loop, what he’d done, what he’d seen. It’s a secret that horrified him, the source of his nightmares for years but if there was anything that he’d learned from what had happened with Miles - Peter realizing he never did reach out to him the night May had died - he knew he couldn’t continue to keep this from Michelle.

“MJ, I… I have to talk to you about something.” 

Michelle lifts her head up, an unreadable expression on her face. 

“Peter…”

“No, I need, I need to do this.” 

Peter looks into her eyes, takes a deep breath. 

And tells her everything. 

* * *

Michelle’s quiet, the expression on her face still unreadable. Peter just waits, recognizing that much like anything else in his life - his timing was terrible. 

Peter was mourning yes, but so was Michelle - Peter kicking himself for unloading all of this on her when Michelle had been close to May too, when she’d had to shoulder the burden of trying to care for him while still dealing with her own grief. 

But before Peter can think to apologize or say something, Michelle sits up. 

Peter waits, searching her face before seeing something shift in her eyes. 

“I’m so sorry.”

“What?” The confusion is immediate, Peter blinking a few times as Michelle gets an almost tortured expression on her face. 

“Peter, you….” She sighs. “God, the universe just never gives you a fucking break does it?” 

Peter almost wants to laugh, shaking his head as Michelle looked at him. 

“You’re not--you’re not mad? I mean, I’ve kept this from you for years.”

“Peter, you saw me  _ die. _ I mean, let’s not even get into the fact that you destroyed a timeline because of it--”

“It was more like a time  _ loop _ \--” Michelle put a hand up as she continued. 

“Peter… how could I ever be mad at you?” She gets closer to him, bringing a hand to his face. 

“I love you, Peter Parker. I’ve loved you since I was sixteen years old. And it sounds like from what you’ve told me, that you loved me even longer.”

Peter lets out a sharp laugh, tears in his eyes as Michelle smiled. She wiped one of his tears with her thumb, Peter closing his eyes as he leaned into her hand. 

“Does this mean you’re actually older than me?” 

Peter lets out another laugh this time, his vision blurry as he opens his eyes - seeing Michelle’s watery smile. 

“Yeah, you’re married to an older man. How does that make you feel?” 

Michelle shrugged, leaning closer. 

“Like the luckiest woman in the universe.” 

It’s one of the cheesiest things she’s ever said to him but Peter can’t bring himself to care, kissing her even as tears streamed down his face. When they part, Peter lets his forehead rest on hers, feeling the three soft taps from her fingers on his arm. 

“Did May know?” 

Peter took a shaky breath before leaning back and shaking his head. “No, I… I didn’t tell anybody. Nobody knows.” He looked straight into Michelle’s eyes. 

“Except for you. And Strange.” Michelle nodded. 

“I wondered what had happened. Can you--what did he say?” 

Peter frowned. “Nothing that made any sense. He never does.”

“What was it?” Michelle asks.

“Don’t let yourself be alone for what’s to come.” 

Michelle seems to consider his words, Peter watching as she pursed her lips. 

“Well, I’m not a magic expert but you think maybe he meant something having to do with Miles?”

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean,” Michelle sighed, “I think that you and he need to sort this out. I know it’s not a good time, Pete. It never is for you.” Michelle brings her hand back up to his face. 

“But you need to make this right with him. You know I’m with you, every step of the way. No matter what. But Miles needs to know that you’ll be there for him too.” 

Peter thinks back to what May had said, the idea that he had a choice. And even if it was terrible timing and Peter’s grief was overwhelming him, the knowledge that he had told Michelle  _ everything _ and for her to still be by his side gave him a surge of confidence. 

He had to make this right with Miles. 

But Peter doesn’t get the chance. 

Both his and Michelle’s phones start buzzing at the same time, Michelle looking to him in alarm. It was a setting he’d rigged, for them to be immediately aware of anything Spider-Man related - but considering Peter was in front of her, it didn’t make sense… unless...

Peter’s blood runs cold, rushing for his phone as Michelle turns on the television.

FISK IN TIMES SQUARE - HOSTAGE SITUATION 

The alert on his phone makes him want to drop his phone, turning his attention to the man on the screen. 

Peter sees Fisk yelling out and waving his hands but Peter can’t hear what he’s saying - a ringing in his ears as his eyes widen at who was beside him, gripped tightly in the Green Goblin’s claws. 

_ Miles _ . 

He looks defiant even wearing his mask, a sinking feeling in Peter’s stomach at the sight of the kid in his homemade suit - squirming in vain to be free. 

“Peter.” Michelle’s voice snaps him out of it, finally listening to what Fisk was saying. 

“Now we can avoid all of this troublesome mess. I have no ill-will to the child.” Fisk points derisively towards Miles before turning towards the camera, Peter involuntarily leaning in. 

“My quarrel is with Spider-Man. And Spider, if you’re listening and I know that you are, I’m giving you ten minutes to get to Times Square.”

Fisk brings out a gun, Peter’s hand gripping the couch. 

“Or the kid’s toast.” 

* * *

Peter springs into action, grabbing his suit. He’d buried May today,  _ today _ \- and he’ll be damned if he loses another person in his life before the day’s end. 

Michelle immediately rushes to him before he’s out the window. 

“Peter--”

“Stay here, MJ. I’ll be back.” 

“Peter, no.”

“MJ--”

“I’m not letting you go alone, not now. Not after today. I love you Peter Parker. Till death do us part right?”

“And that’s exactly what I can’t let happen, MJ.” He brings her hands to his face, knowing time was running out. He had to get to Times Square, he had to get to the kid - and Peter couldn’t live with himself if he’d not only risked the kid, but risked losing Michelle -  _ again _ . 

“I can’t lose you, MJ. I can’t, I can’t do that again.” Peter’s voice breaks even as Michelle’s is firm. 

“You won’t. Peter, you have to trust me.” 

Strange’s words come back to his mind, as if everything started to click into place. 

“ _ Trust the people around you, Peter. You need them. Don’t let yourself be alone for what’s to come.”  _

Strange’s reappearance suddenly makes perfect sense, a warning for Peter that even if everything within him is telling him to leave - to lock Michelle in the apartment and keep her safe - he knows he has to listen. 

“Okay. Okay.” Peter nods, mind whirring as he thinks. He can’t have Michelle come as she is - Michelle was amazing, incredible in a million ways but she was only human. He couldn’t risk her getting hurt, couldn’t risk her being unprotected--

And then it hits him. 

He looks up at her, arm wrapped around her. 

“Hold on tight. We have to make a stop first.” 

* * *

Peter lands on top of the Morgan Stanley building, surveying the center of Times Square below. NYPD had already evacuated the area, and thankfully Fisk and the Green Goblin had made no moves to stop the public from clearing out. 

“Zoom, E,” he ordered, EDITH promptly focusing his visuals in on the two criminals down below. However, Peter only had eyes for Miles, who was still held tight in the Green Goblin’s grasp. The kid was cuffed - most likely vibranium, Peter knew from past dealings with Fisk - and although Peter couldn’t see his face, he could tell from the way the kid was holding himself that he was more defiant than scared. 

Peter doesn’t have to look above to know there’s multiple helicopters in the air, all broadcasting live both him and the situation below. He can feel the cameras trained on him, just waiting for him to make a move. He knows from EDITH’s countdown he only has about thirty seconds left.

“C’mon, MJ,” he whispers to himself, but he knows it’s futile. There was never a shot in hell she would make it before the deadline, no matter how much she wanted to be there with him. Peter knew he couldn’t leave her in the apartment but now, the seconds counting down-- Peter knew he would have to take Fisk and Goblin down on his own. Normally he wouldn’t be too worried, but with Miles there… 

_ No _ , Peter tells himself,  _ don’t go there. _ The kid’s going to be just fine-- Peter won’t let it turn out any other way.

Five seconds now.

With one last steadying breath Peter swings down, landing right in the middle of Broadway and 7th, only a dozen feet from where the two criminals are holding Miles captive.

Miles is already shouting before Peter can even straighten from his crouched position. “Mr. P, you gotta get out of--”

“Hush, child,” Fisk harshly interrupts, before leering at Peter. “So the prodigal insect returns. You know, I wasn’t certain that you cared enough for the boy to show up, but now I must say-- the gamble is paying off handsomely.”

“Let him go, Fisk,” Peter demands. “This is between you and me.”

Fisk barks out a laugh. “This is far beyond between just you and me, Spider-Man. Or have you not noticed the five helicopters overhead? Millions are watching our every move at this very moment, just waiting to see what will happen. How many, I wonder, are hoping for bloodshed before the end?”

Peter shakes his head. “I’m not here to play mind games, Wilson. Now let the boy go and surrender peacefully, and only then can I guarantee you will come to no harm.”

Fisk sneers at him, his face distorting into an expression of pure hatred. “You think I didn’t know this would end with me dead or locked away? You think I didn’t  _ know _ that?”

Peter just stares at him, unsure how to respond. Because yes, he  _ had _ assumed Fisk had a getaway plan here-- some greater scheme to cause mayhem while still managing to slink out of the grasp of the law. So why not now?

He gets his answer when Fisk continues. “You took my one chance - my  _ last  _ chance - to get my family back away from me, you fuckin’ bug. As soon as that happened, my sole focus became taking you down-- even if I have to go down with you.”

Peter watches, terrified, as Fisk pulls a gun out of his pocket and aims it at Miles’ temple. “No! No, wait--”

“You know what I used the last of my vibranium stash for, Spider-Man?” Fisk continues, tone light. “To make this very gun, along with a matching set of bullets. Specially created for you, of course, but I figure they’ll work just as well on the brat, won’t they?”

Peter starts forward before he can think. “Fisk, please, think about what you’re--”

Fisk looks back up at him with a wide grin, and something about the crazed look in his eyes makes Peter freeze. “How about a trade, hm? Take off your mask, and I’ll let the boy go.”

Peter freezes. “W-what?”

“You heard me. Quit being a coward and show your face, and I’ll let the boy go. You have ten seconds to decide.”

_ Ten-- _

Peter looks at Miles, who is staring at him in horror. The kid’s trying harder than ever to squirm out of the Goblin’s grasp but the villain has him stuck tight. “Don’t do it, Mr. P! Don’t give in to him!”

_ Nine-- _

It’s like time slows down for Peter, the world before him falling away as he remembers the day fifteen years ago when he’d been in nearly this exact spot, watching Mysterio reveal his identity on national television. 

_ Eight-- _

Peter feels no less scared now than he did back then, there’s no doubt. But now, he realizes with shocking clarity-- but  _ now _ is not the same as  _ then _ .

_ Seven-- _

Now, it’s not about him. It’s not about if he has to go into hiding, or if he has to leave everyone he loves behind, or if he has to give up everything in his life that’s good and worth keeping. It’s not about how he feels-- if it’ll ruin his life. Or if it’ll simply end it-- a victim to one of any dozens of villains he’s fought over the years.

_ Six-- _

It’s not about his fear of history repeating-- of him reliving that moment in the warehouse when he was nothing but a terrified kid who’d just brought about the brutal death of the girl he loved.

_ Five-- _

No, this time-- it’s about a different kid. A kid whose life Peter will always put before his own. A kid that Peter loves.  _ Miles. _

_ Four-- _

Fisk cocks the gun back. “What’ll it be, Spider-Man?”

_ Three-- _

“Mr. P, no!” Miles cries again, braver than he has any right to be in the face of death. Braver than Peter has been or ever _ will  _ be in the face of his own, he knows.

_ Two-- _

“It’s okay, underoos,” Peter says, willing every bit of his love for the kid into his words. “This isn’t your fault.”

_ One-- _

“No,  _ don’t- _ -”

Peter retracts the mask, nanites fading all the way back to his neck. Fisk’s eyes widen, as if surprised at Peter’s decision. Or maybe just at who it is behind the mask.

_ Zero. _

“Well what do you know? Peter Parker, SI heir extraordinaire. I should have known it was Stark’s Chosen One from all those years ago-- the fuckin’ Boy Wonder himself, ladies and gentlemen!”

Peter gives him a deathly glare. “I held up my end, Fisk. Now let the kid go.”

“Even back then, I wondered what was so special about you.” Fisk shakes his head, continuing on as though Peter had said nothing. “Damn, you really  _ are _ the prodigal insect, aren’t you?”

“I said let. him.  _ go _ .”

The man howls with laughter for a few more moments before suddenly sobering up, fixing Peter with a venomous gaze. “Oh, Mr. Parker, I think not. Kid could be useful, if I train him right-- find his  _ pressure points _ , if you know what I mean.”

Peter feels his senses go haywire just then, opposite feelings of danger and salvation coming at him from every side as Fisk turns his gun on Peter, aiming for his forehead.

“You see, Mr. Parker, I never gave two shits who you are. I just like to look a man in the eyes when I kill him.”

“No! Mr. P!”

“Miles, listen--”

Fisk cocks the gun, his grin one of pure glee. “Goodbye, Spider-Man.”

“Mr. P!”

“Miles,” Peter’s mask flows back on - “ _ sunflower!” _

And Miles, thank  _ god _ , ducks without even thinking. Peter watches him fall between the Goblin’s arms just in time for Michelle to arrive in the Rescue suit and send a repulsor blast straight to the villain’s chest that has him barely staying on his feet.

Fisk is distracted just long enough for Peter to send a perfectly aimed web at his gun, knocking it out of his hands just as Peter sends a vibranium slicer drone - a gift from Princess Shuri years ago - to Miles, which has him out of his cuffs in seconds.

The criminal screams in rage just as Michelle connects to Peter’s comms. “See, Parker? Told you you’d need me.”

“Right as always, Ms. Jones,” Peter says with a fond chuckle. “Did you bring the--”

Michelle tosses him Miles’ suit casing, Peter catching it with a web and propelling it straight into Miles’ waiting hands. In less than a second the kid is safely in his familiar nanite suit, barely dodging the livid Goblin’s claws as Michelle sends another blast at the villain, this time hitting him in the arm.

_ God, I love her _ , Peter thinks as he watches her control the suit with preternatural ease.

“You two got this?” Michelle asks, breaking him out of his momentary daze. “FRIDAY’s reporting there are civilians still in the Marquis.”

Peter nods at her. “We got this! Go!”

Michelle doesn’t need to be told twice, blasting off across the street and into the dark Broadway show theater while Peter sprints back to Miles. 

The Green Goblin apparently isn’t going down easy though-- he lunges after Peter, bearing down on him. 

“Left, Mr. P!”

Peter twists just so and Miles expertly sends a net web at Goblin which pins him down to the pavement. That doesn’t stop the villain from roaring away in rage.

“Bad Gobby,” Miles says, then sends a second web that covers the Goblin’s mouth, muting him. “ _ Good _ Gobby.”

Peter’s about to say  _ he’s not a dog, underoos _ but suddenly his spidey sense goes wild again, and he turns to see Fisk standing right behind Miles and holding the gun once more. It’s cocked and about to send a bullet right through the back of Miles’ head.

“No!”

Peter lifts an arm to send another web, only to watch in shock as Miles does a 180 and brings his hand to Fisk’s chest and--  _ electrocutes _ him?

Fisk falls to the ground, stunned. Peter feels similarly, staring at Miles’ raised hand in shock. “Kid, what the--”

“ _ Whoa _ ,” Miles exclaims as he twists his hand this way and that, fascinated. “That was so cool, Mr. P! I didn’t even know I could do that!”

Peter shakes his head. They’ll figure it out later, he decides as he webs Fisk to the ground only to wrap an arm around Miles’ shoulders, pulling him into an embrace.

“Thank  _ god _ you’re okay, underoos.”

Peter doesn’t have to see Miles’ face to know he’s grinning as he returns the hug before the kid’s entire body tenses and he pulls away, mask shadowing a look of guilt. “Mr. P, I’m so sorry they caught me like that, this is all my--”

“No, Miles,” Peter interrupts, keeping a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “This isn’t your fault, okay?”

“But now everyone knows who you are and…”

NYPD is swarming the street, having decided to come out now that the action appears to be over. One of the officers calls out for Spider-Man, but Peter doesn’t pay them any mind yet-- still focused on the one person who  _ actually _ needs his attention at the moment.

He squeezes Miles’ shoulder. “Still not your fault, underoos. It was my choice, okay? That’s on me, not you.”

“But--”

“No buts, kiddo. I’ll figure it out later. Right now my main focus is  _ you _ .” Peter gulps, moving his hand from Miles’ shoulder to squeeze the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner about your uncle, underoos. I should have told you as soon as I realized. I know it might take time but-- do you think you can forgive me?”

Miles nods slowly. “I won’t say everything’s okay yet but, yeah-- I forgive you, Mr. P.”

Peter grins, pulling Miles in for another hug. He’s so relieved to have the kid back-- to know he’s  _ safe _ . 

Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t sense it coming.

“Hey, Spidey?” the officer who called for him earlier says from directly behind him.

Peter lets go of Miles, still smiling as he turns around. “Yes, sir, what can I do for--”

The rest of the question dies on his lips as he feels something poke him in the sternum. He looks down to see Fisk’s vibranium gun, then up into the face of-- of--

“Dodge this,” the Scorpion says with a grin, right before he shoots Peter point-blank in the chest.


	12. Destiny

It’s sharp, immediate, blinding.

One second Peter is staring into the eyes of the man who had murdered Michelle, the man who had created a nightmare so terrifying that Peter had bent time itself to fix it. 

In the next, Peter’s gasping - staring up into the sky as the nanites from his mask fade away. The back of his throat feels wet, a wheeze that would send him into a panic if his mind could make sense of anything beyond the pain. 

He faintly hears another pulsar shot, Miles’ cries beside him getting louder and louder as Peter turns to face him.

Peter wheezes, seeing the panic in Miles’ eyes as he blinks. The kid’s voice starts to come back into the focus even as Peter’s mind feels hazy.

“Hey, Mr. P. Are you, you need to stay awake okay? We won. We won, you did it, Mr. P. You, you did--” Miles chokes out a sob, Peter feeling like there’s a weight on his chest as he struggles to breathe. His eyes scan the sky, Peter extending a hand out reaching for, for--

And then he feels it, the cool metal of the Rescue suit and Michelle leaning over him, seeing the panic and fear in her eyes. 

“MJ--” Peter whispers, gagging as the wetness in the back of his throat makes it even more difficult to breathe. 

“Peter, I’m here. I’m right here, okay, we’re right here.” Peter’s eyes flutter, the unimaginable pain from his chest clouding out anything and everyone else. But Michelle’s voice begs him to focus, the pleading in it causing him to look back to her. 

“You can’t leave me like this, Peter. Come on, don’t do this to me. You don’t get to do this okay? Not here. Not now.” Michelle’s hand is gripped tightly against his, Peter choking as he tries to breathe - words failing him. 

There’s so much pain, so much so that Peter can hardly focus on anything but Michelle’s voice, still hearing Miles’ soft cries. 

Peter forces himself to open his eyes, meeting Michelle’s gaze. 

With as much strength as he can muster, Peter squeezes her hands three times - seeing Michelle’s face fall. 

“No, no, no, Peter. Please, please. I love you, Peter. Please,  _ God _ , don’t do this. Not today.” But everything around him starts to dim, the darkness closing in around his vision. He sees Miles out of the corner of his eye, barely feels Michelle’s hand coming to rest on his face. 

Peter closes his eyes. 

_ I’m ready. _

And then feels nothing at all. 

* * *

The first thing Peter registers is the sound of high-pitched laughter wafting in the breeze. 

He opens his eyes to see a beautiful blue sky. It’s a sunny day with just a few clouds drifting above. He sits up, fingers clenching at soft grass as he looks around. 

He’s back at the cabin-- Pepper’s old upstate lake house. Yet, even as he looks around, it doesn’t appear quite the same as it did the last time he spent a summer weekend up there with MJ and Morgan-- over three years ago, now. For one, there’s a bright green swing-set that wasn’t there before, and what appears to be a guesthouse a ways down that’s set in a clearing which last Peter saw, was overgrown with trees and shrubs.

The laughter he’d heard earlier grabs his attention again, and Peter turns to see two children sitting out on the lake beach, building a sand castle using plastic buckets and tools. It’s a boy and a girl, both of whom look to be roughly six or seven-- although Peter supposes the boy is probably a few years older, judging by his height and the protective way he watches the girl every time she wades into the water, plucking pebbles out from the lake bottom only to run back up the beach and carefully deposit them into the sides of the sand castle.

Peter watches them for a minute or so from where he’s come to stand, far to the edge of the beach in a copse of trees. He considers approaching the children, asking if there’s an adult nearby-- someone who can give him some answers as to how he went from suffocating on his own blood in the middle of Times Square to waking to this tranquil scene. But before he can, the porch door swings open and out comes-- out comes--

Peter takes a sharp breath as Tony steps out of the house. He looks just as he did when Peter saw him the night he was tossed through time and space courtesy of the collider-- grey hair with a matching goatee. Yet there’s a contentment in his expression as he looks on at the two children that Peter can’t remember ever seeing before-- as though he believes beyond a doubt that everything is just as it should be. 

“Grandpa Tony!” the little girl cries out, jumping up and running across the lawn. “You’re awake! Grandma Pepper said to let you sleep.”

_ Oh god,  _ Peter thinks as he takes a closer look, seeing MJ’s soft features blended along with his in both the children’s faces. _ Those are my kids. _

Tony walks down the porch steps, giving an exaggerated groan as the girl - Peter’s  _ daughter,  _ what the hell - hurtles into his side, clutching around his middle. “Sorry I wasn’t out here earlier, munchkin-- Grandma P. makes me takes a nap every day now, so I don’t get cranky.”

“But naps are for babies!”

“Excuse me?” Tony teases, starting to tickle the little girl around the neck and armpits, who giggles and paws at his hands. “Are you calling me a baby?”

“No!”

“Are you _ sure? _ ”

“Yes, Grandpa!,” the girl cries, a high-pitched squeal breaking her words. “Stop it!”

Tony takes mercy then, pulling away before ruffling the little girl’s dark curls. “Alright, button-- it’s time for lunch. Head on in-- you too, Ben.”

  
  


The boy -  _ Ben _ \- stands up from the castle, shaking sand off himself before racing up the grass, Tony ruffling his hair as he passes by. “Tell Grandma Pepper I’ll be inside in just a little while, okay?”

Ben turns back and nods before he disappears through the doorway, the girl already ahead of him. Tony watches until the door swings closed before he turns to look at Peter, still standing down the beach. Tony starts to walk over.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d come back.” Peter gives a hard swallow as Tony reaches him, looking Peter up and down.

“B-back?”

“From when you visited last. You know, the short drop-in in the garage that shaved a few more years off my life-- years I really can’t afford to lose, at this point.” Tony narrows his eyes then. “Or at least, I assume it’s the same you-- I suppose where there’s one there’s, oh, fourteen million or so.”

“It’s me,” Peter confirms, biting his lip. “How--how did you know I’m not your Peter?”

“Well, for one-- my Peter is off somewhere in the Poconos for an anniversary getaway with his wife, and second-- you look, well.” Tony pauses, giving Peter a sorrowful smile. “You frankly look like shit, kid. And I don’t just mean the damaged Spidey get-up.”

Peter looks down at himself. Indeed, he’s still wearing his suit from the battle with Fisk and Green Goblin. Gingerly he ghosts his fingers over the small bullet-sized hole the Scorpion gave him, just to the right of his sternum. The wound below appears to be healed-- not bleeding or even showing a mark. But Peter can feel it like a phantom ache, knows it’s still there just below the surface.

The low throb of pain with every breath feels like a countdown, somehow-- but to what, he’s not sure. The feeling has his guard up again suddenly though-- not wanting to fall for any tricks like he did all those years ago in a Berlin construction site.

He eyes Tony suspiciously. “So this is what-- a dream, a trick? Or wait, I know-- it’s a hallucination my firing synapses came up with to help me greet the end. Some salt in the wound before I get to the final destination, huh? See what I could have had but never got?”

Peter digs a finger into the suit’s bullet hole, right over the ache in his chest. He lets out a heavy chuckle. “Or maybe I’m already dead.  _ Dodge this _ … right.” 

He shakes his head, already feeling his stoic mask falling apart. 

“ _ Fuck _ , he mutters, rubbing his watery eyes. “I’m a mess, Mr. Stark.”

He looks back up at Tony, sees the man staring down at the hole in his suit with an expression of deep sorrow before he meets Peter’s gaze, offering him a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t know what I am in relation to you, kid. This is all new to me too. How about we go relax on the dock and you tell me what asshole used you for target practice, hm?”

* * *

“So the last thing you remember is bleeding out in Times Square,” Tony repeats, shaking his head. “God, I hope for your sake that’s not how you go out, kid. Nobody deserves to die within spitting distance of a Planet Hollywood.”

Peter gives a humorless chuckle in response, watching the waves kick up off the shore. 

“So tell me more about this kid-- this Miles. He’s like you?”

Peter can’t help the fond smile, Tony’s crow’s feet crinkling with his own answering grin when he spots the change in expression. “Yeah, he’s got the same powers I do, and after this last battle-- I think a few extra ones. Miles…he’s such a good kid, Mr. Stark. He’s smart and he’s funny and he’s kind and he just wants to help people, you know? He’s everything I could want for Spider-Man’s legacy, and more.”

Tony lifts an eyebrow. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

Peter just shakes his head, smile faltering.

“So, where was your Tony during all this hullabaloo? You said Michelle was with you, so I can only assume I’m with the kids or--”

Peter lets out a brittle laugh, unable to help himself. He leans back against the wood panels of the dock bench, closing his eyes to stop the onslaught of tears he can feel brewing before turning to Tony. Peter can see the storm behind his mentor’s eyes-- love warring with pity.

“Oh, Pete. How long has it been?”

Peter takes a long, steadying breath, rubbing at a deep twinge in his chest. “Since everyone came back. I saw you for maybe thirty seconds in the battle - barely enough time for a hug - and then you disappeared into the fight and, well…”

Peter pauses, kicking at a knot in the dock’s wood. “Not long after that you were gone for good. You ended up snapping Thanos and his army away-- saved everyone else by doing it, but it was still the ultimate sacrifice play.”

Tony lets out a high whistle. “Was there really no other way? Danvers snapped here-- had barely a scratch.”

Peter gives a tight shrug. “You must not have thought so.”

Tony leans back as if thinking, before gently checking Peter’s shoulder and shooting him an unimpressed look. “And you’ve been trying to live up to that for fifteen  _ years _ ? That’s a long time to act like a reckless dumbass, kid.”

Peter shoots Tony a glare, Tony just rolling his eyes in response. “Like knows like, Pete-- and looking at the you that’s here in front of me… well, it’s like staring in the mirror of who I was the last few years before that donut ship showed up. But beyond that, underoos, I know  _ you _ .”

Tony softens his voice, and Peter can hear the grief underlying his words when he asks, “So be honest, kid. Exactly how long have you been prepared to die-- to go out making some big sacrifice play, just like your Tony did?”

Peter wants to refute Tony’s assumptions-- the lie is right on the tip of his tongue. But looking at the man’s open, vulnerable expression, he finds he can’t. And, for once-- that he doesn’t really want to, either.

Peter stares off into the distance, unable to look at Tony as he admits the truth. “Five years, at least. Long enough to push away everyone who cares about me, one way or another. Long enough to nearly cost me Pepper’s goodwill, and to hurt Michelle to the point I almost lost her forever. Long enough to--” Peter stumbles, gulping down a sob as he thinks of the one person whose faith in him never faltered, his eyes filling with tears all the same, “to deny May the chance to be a grandmother.”

“Oh, underoos. I’m so sorry.”

Before Peter knows what’s happening Tony is pulling him into his arms, resting a hand at the back of Peter’s head and guiding him until his cheek is resting on Tony’s shoulder. When Peter remains tense, Tony responds by carding his hands through Peter’s hair the same exact way he did when Peter was a kid and in need of comfort. Something about the gesture breaks whatever reservations Peter had left about this Tony and his universe, or heaven, or-- whatever.

Peter grimaces suddenly, rubbing at yet another sharp twinge in his chest as he leans back, Tony keeping a hand on his shoulder. Whatever cosmic countdown is going on, he knows he’s running out of time. 

Yet, in a way he doesn’t understand-- he also knows he has a choice to make. As if there’s two doors he could walk through: one to go home, or one to go-- somewhere  _ else _ . A place where he could be as content as Tony looked, gazing upon his grandkids.

A squeeze from the grip on his shoulder brings him back to the dock. “What’s going on in there, kid?”

He glances back at Tony, straightening a bit with a sigh. The man doesn’t move his hand, somehow recognizing Peter needs the contact-- needs it in order to be brave enough to make this next confession.

“I know I’ll never be as strong as you, Mr. Stark. I’ve known that since the day you died. But I always thought my destiny would at least be going out in a blaze of glory like you did-- saving someone I loved. But even then, I’ve been too much of a coward to make the sacrifice play, up until now.”

Peter smiles at Tony, feeling something like excitement rising in his gut. “Maybe this isn’t a dream, or a hallucination. Maybe it’s just like a-- like a cross-universe pit-stop. A chance to visit with you before it’s my turn to finally rest-- to see _my_ Tony again, and mom and dad, and Ben, and-- and May.”

Peter doesn’t expect Tony’s face to fall at that, his expression to cloud over so quickly. “Fuck that nonsense.”

Peter’s jaw unhinges. “What do you mean, fuck that? I saved Miles, I brought down Fisk… everyone left in my life is  _ safe _ now!I finally fulfilled my destiny, finally did what I was always meant to--”

“You’ve fulfilled  _ shit _ , Pete.”

Whatever combination of hurt and shock comes over Peter’s face, it causes Tony to slump, his forceful tone softening. “What I mean is-- look. I know it might not feel like it, but you’re still young, kid. You still have so much more to give your world, to give to your loved ones-- to give to  _ yourself. _ And I know I’m not your Tony, but I do know that whatever play he made-- he did it for the world, sure, but he really did it for  _ you _ . To give you a chance to live the life he wanted for you. I know that because that’s what I would have done for my own Peter if I’d had to.”

Tony moves the hand on Peter’s shoulder up to his face, palming his cheek-- thumb brushing underneath Peter’s eye. “Your Tony, he wanted you to be better, right? Well, I don’t know much, kid, but I do know this: I know beyond a fuckin’ doubt that being  _ better _ \-- right now, in this moment? It means choosing to live.”

Peter closes his eyes, leaning into Tony’s gentle touch. When he opens them again, he’s crying. “It’s just so  _ hard _ , Mr. Stark. Everything is so hard and I still miss you so much and now with May gone, it’s only going to be harder and I… I’m so  _ tired _ .”

Tony leans forward, both hands on each side of Peter’s head, thumbs at his temples. “I know it’s hard, Pete, and I know you’re tired. But this isn’t your time, you hear me? And you might think you’re not strong enough. But kid, believe me when I say, you’ve always been strong enough-- _always_ been worthy of every bit of love that’s been offered to you.”

Tony wipes away the tears on Peter’s cheeks. “But dying isn’t the way to do it, kiddo. So be  _ better  _ like I told you to be and don’t quit, dammit-- not when you’re just getting to the best part! Do you understand me? Please, Peter, if not for yourself then for me, and MJ, and Miles-- choose to  _ live _ .”

Peter stares hard into Tony’s imploring gaze as the man speaks, takes in the desperation in his voice-- feels love at the heart of both.

_ But is this even real? _ Peter asks himself, only to dismiss the question. Because in the end, it doesn’t matter if it’s real or just his dying subconscious granting him one last favor. 

Whatever this is, he just knows it’s a gift. A precious thing he didn’t think he’d get to have again-- even for what only amounts to a few moments after fifteen years.

Peter thinks of the anguished look in Miles’ eyes when he kneeled over Peter on the pavement, of MJ’s distraught pleas for him to stay. Just like with Tony here, he feels love at the heart of both of those too.

Peter nods slowly, and Tony lets out a deep breath. 

Just then there’s a hard pull in his chest, and Peter knows-- it’s time. “Mr. Stark, I think I-- I think it’s time for me--”

Tony nods, the palms on Peter’s cheekbones pressing in slightly as his mentor gently kisses his forehead. “I love you, Peter. No matter where you are, no matter where I am-- you’re always gonna be my kid.”

Tony pulls Peter into one last hug, and Peter readily relaxes into it. He lets himself really take it in, to make sure he has a full-sense memory to hold onto for whatever comes next.

“I love you too, Mr. Stark,” he whispers back.

Peter thinks of the choices before him. 

Decides.

And lets himself drift. 


	13. Reborn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note to say: thank you to everyone who has supported this collaboration. Writing this fic has been a true labor of love for us both the last five months, and we already miss writing in this universe. But to know that there are readers who love it as much as we do has been so gratifying, and has made the journey so very incredible.
> 
> On that note, if you've been following along but have yet to comment, please consider leaving us a note now that the story has come to an end? We would love to hear from every single one of you-- even just a short key-smash still means so much to us!!!
> 
> Thank you again. We hope you enjoy this last chapter <3 <3 <3

He feels the fabric of the blanket on him first, then the beeping - Tony’s words still ringing in his ears as the world around him slowly starts to come back into focus. 

Peter tries to open his eyes, to move his head but it feels like there’s something weighing him down - an ache in his chest that makes him wince. Peter tenses, only to relax when he feels it, a gentle hand reaching out to his. 

He’d know her touch anywhere.

“Peter, you’re okay. Everything’s okay. Just rest.” He hears Michelle’s voice, barely above a whisper. Peter wants to smile, but can’t, instead forcing himself to open his eyes. 

He’d never been good about listening anyway.

The room is bright - too much - causing Peter to wince again as he hears Michelle ask EDITH to dim the lights, Peter opening his eyes again only to see her.

She looked radiant, beautiful - even as Peter could see streaks from where tears had just fallen from her cheeks. 

_ God, I love her. _

“I thought I told you to rest.” Michelle smiles, Peter seeing tears in her eyes as she leaned forward, her other hand going to brush some of his hair back. 

Peter blinks at her for a second, trying to speak as he swallows - his throat feeling inexplicably dry. Michelle’s thumb caresses his cheek, the other softly squeezing his hand three times. 

“You’re okay, Pete. We got you.”

Peter starts to close his eyes, feeling more content and at rest than he’s felt in ages. It hurts to move, the ache in his chest so intense that he feels as if he can barely breathe. 

But Michelle’s gentle touch grounds him, Tony’s words still rattling around his brain as Peter feels himself start to drift back to sleep. 

It hurts, everything hurts. His chest, his body, his head - his soul. 

But Peter made his choice. And now with her hand in his, channeling all his strength to squeeze her hand back three times, Peter lets himself rest - knowing that Michelle, Miles and the world would still be there waiting for him. 

Peter chose to live. 

And he had a lot to look forward to. 

* * *

When Peter wakes up again, he  _ feels _ more alive - almost painfully aware of the noises around him, no matter how subtle they were. 

“EDITH--” He croaks out, wincing at how awful he sounded. 

“Goodnight Protocol activated.” She responds, Peter getting the distinct impression that this wasn’t the first time that she’d been asked to do this - seemingly understanding the request just from the inflection of his voice. 

He starts to take in more of his surroundings, wondering to himself how long he’s been out when Michelle walks in - head down looking at her phone only to glance up and do a double-take when she sees him awake. 

“Hey.”

Michelle puts the phone down in an instant, rushing forward until she’s right beside him - cradling his face in her hands. He catches her eye as she searches his face, Michelle smiling even as her lip trembles.

“You almost die and your first words to me are ‘hey’?”

“I can think of something more profound if you give me a second. Got shot in the chest after all.” 

Peter smirks, bringing a hand up to her cheek as she moves forward, kissing him. Peter leans into it, brushing his thumb across her cheek until she leans back, Michelle shaking her head.

“God, you’re an idiot.”

“I’m  _ your _ idiot.” Michelle laughs, even as she brings her hands down, moving the chair beside his bed closer so she can sit beside him. She brings her hand out to his, squeezing it three times even as she smiles back at him.

“You are. Can’t get rid of me that easily, Parker.”

Peter sees the storm in her eyes, feeling a slight undercurrent of guilt as he meets her gaze. 

“MJ—“

“I don’t… I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come back, Pete.” Peter closes his eyes, swallowing down the lump in his throat as she continued. 

“I could see it, something in your eyes. You--you were going to leave.” 

Just as he couldn’t with Tony, Peter can’t bring himself to lie to her, opening his eyes as his vision blurred - seeing the tears in Michelle’s eyes. 

“Yeah. I, I almost did.” 

The way Michelle’s shoulders sag causes Peter’s heart to constrict, wishing that he could take away the pain even in knowing that he can’t - knowing that he has to be honest with her. 

It’s quiet between them for a few moments before Michelle sighs, straightening her back in the way Peter knows to mean that she’s decided something for herself, nodding as she says, “But you didn’t. You came back to me.” 

Michelle squeezes his hands three times again, trying and failing to smile. “I love you, Peter.”

Peter thinks that this could be it, that he could allow himself the chance to just accept her love - accept his new lease on life and move forward. But he knows that to do so without telling her what happened, without telling her what he’d almost done would be just as big of a mistake as not telling her the truth about his nightmares all those years had been. 

“I love you too. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I—“

“I understand, Pete.” Michelle interjects, nodding her head as she glanced down to the blanket covering him. “If you did…” She trails off, seemingly trying to find the words but Peter stops her, bringing his other hand to cover hers. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Michelle meets his eyes. And then nods, seeing the acceptance in her eyes.

What he did -  _ almost _ did - was unforgivable. Tony had been right, he’d fulfilled shit. And he’d almost left Michelle behind, something Peter knew all too well how that felt. But if Michelle forgave him, Peter could also forgive himself - to choose to  _ live _ \- just as Tony had said - instead of looking back to the past. 

The decision to live reminds him then of what had happened in Times Square, moments before he had been shot in the chest. 

“Shit.”

“What?” Michelle asks, Peter sighing. 

“How long have I been out of it?”

“A few days,” Michelle replies, Peter seeing the tension and worry in her eyes. “You’ve woken up a few times. You don’t remember it?” 

Peter shook his head, eyebrows furrowing. “What’s happening then?”

The confusion is written all over Michelle’s face. “Happening with…?” 

“With Miles. With Fisk.” Peter feels the dread in his stomach even as he sits up, wincing as he does. “Fuck, everyone knows my name now. Are you okay? Is everything--”

Michelle sighs, cutting him off. “I should’ve figured that you would take exactly two minutes to try and recover before your mind went to literally everyone else.”

“But MJ--”

“Miles is fine. Sweet kid. He’s been wanting to see you but Pepper and I both thought it might be better for him to wait until you were awake.” 

Peter gets the sense that they wondered if he would wake up at all, nodding as she continues. “But yeah, he’s fine. Worried about you, but okay.”

Michelle sighs again, running her thumb across his hand. “As for everything else…”

Peter waits, his mind racing. At the time, his sole focus had been on Miles. And he’d meant it - every word - his claim to Miles that he would figure everything out later. But later was  _ now _ and Peter had been out of it for days, almost leaving Michelle alone to permanently deal with the consequences behind his actions. 

He’d been sure of his decision since the moment he’d hugged Tony, but now holding her hand - seeing the concerned look on her face - Peter felt another surge of thankfulness that he’d listened. 

“Pepper’s been fielding questions from the press since you were shot. To be honest, the story’s revolved more about whether that Gargan guy did a public service or is a public menace.” 

A chill runs down Peter’s spine at the mention of him. “What, uh-what happened to him?”

Michelle gives him a look, one that almost makes Peter laugh. “What do you think happened, Peter? He  _ shot _ you. You think I left him standing after that?” 

Peter laughs then stops, freezing at the idea that Michelle had--

“I didn’t kill him.” Michelle interrupts, seemingly knowing where his mind had gone, “Just stunned the hell out of him. He’s in custody now. Whether or not people support Spider-Man or can’t wrap their minds around  _ you _ being him, Gargan still shot you point-blank. He tried to murder you, Peter.”

_ He murdered you _ . Peter thinks, keeping this to himself. For as honest as he’d been with Michelle back in the apartment, he hadn’t told her who had been the one to actually end her life. For her to tell him now that she had been the one to take him down, it made Peter wonder if there was some semblance of justice in the universe after all. 

Yet the reminder that his identity was still out there made him reconsider. 

“So, what now?” 

Michelle shrugs. “That’s up to you. I mean, there’s no point in denying it. Your face has been on an endless loop for the past couple of days. Pick a news station and they have an opinion about it.” Michelle smiles, squeezing his hand three times. 

“But whatever happens, whatever you decide, I’m right here with you.”

Peter smiles back at her, pulling her into another kiss - one that makes him catch his breath, realizing that he was still aching from a chest wound when he flinched from moving forward too fast. 

“Easy there, tiger. You’re still in recovery.”

“I know of a couple good ways that I could  _ recover _ .” Peter whispers suggestively, Michelle laughing as she rolled her eyes. 

“I’m sure you do, but until the doctor gives the all clear you,” she loosens her grip on his hand to gently push him back, making Peter lay back down, “are going to lay right here and sleep, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.” Peter smiles, his mind inexplicably going to what he had seen with Tony. 

Peter still wasn’t sure if it was real - if it even mattered if it was or not. But if it was his subconscious, the universe or a fluke - Peter couldn’t help but think that the idea of seeing his kids -  _ their _ kids - hadn’t been a coincidence. 

It’s something that he and Michelle had talked about before, argued about at some point. And while the idea of bringing in a kid to a world where their father wasn’t just in danger anytime he walked out the door but had no sense of privacy was terrifying, Peter was tired of living his life in fear. 

Peter had decided to live. He was going to make the most of it. 

Michelle seems to pick up on his new train of thought, tilting her head before asking, “What?”

“You’d make a great mom, you know that?” 

Michelle gives him another look, questioning as she studied him. “What… makes you say that?” 

Peter purses his lips, debating with himself if he really wanted to share about his encounter with Tony. Real or not real, honesty or not - it seemed a little too much for Peter to explain in any way that made sense, especially when he could barely wrap his own mind around it. 

Instead of answering, Peter shrugs. “Figured a dying man is allowed some honesty.”

“You’re  _ not _ dying, first of all. Not anymore at least.”

“My statement still stands. You’d make a great mom, MJ.”

Michelle’s eyes dance around his face for a moment, as if trying to decipher some hidden meaning in his words. Whatever she finds, it’s enough for her to smile back before saying, “Well,  _ you _ would make an excellent dad.”

She pauses, eyes darting away before meeting his again. “Someday. Don’t go buying a crib just yet.”

Peter laughs, so sharply that it makes his chest hurt - in a good way as he grins, “Yeah, someday. Maybe  _ not _ right after my life as Peter Parker is officially over.”

Michelle’s features soften at that, her hand going back to hold his. 

“Your life isn’t over, Peter.”

Peter shakes his head, laughing as he closes his eyes. 

“No, I know. I know.” He opens them, meeting Michelle’s with a look that he hopes conveys the amount of love he has for her. 

“It’s just beginning.” 

* * *

Peter’s just stacking the last of his boxes by the front door of his small bachelor apartment when he hears a knock at the living room window. Smiling to himself, he sidles over, unlocking the latch and lifting the pane. 

“Hey, underoos.”

Miles gracefully slips in, his suit sliding back into its case as soon as Peter has the blinds closed.

“Hey, Mr. P! Long time no see.”

Peter goes over and gives the kid a hug, the teen immediately returning it.

“I’ve missed seeing you, kiddo.”

“Me too.”

It had been nearly five weeks since the incident in Times Square-- since the day Peter had both had his identity outed and nearly died in the space of an hour. Besides a short visit in the medbay he hadn’t seen Miles in all that time, having explained to the kid that he needed to keep his distance until the furor of Peter’s identity and subsequent announcement that he was taking over as Stark Industries CEO had died down a bit. Miles had been disappointed, but he’d understood-- like Peter, he didn’t want any extra attention on himself than there already was.

The dual reveals had changed a lot of things in a very short amount of time for Peter and everyone close to him. Peter and Michelle were preparing to move into the tower, which was why Peter was busy packing up the last of his stuff from the apartment he’d lived in on his own. He wasn’t sorry to say goodbye-- the place served only as a reminder of a time he wanted to forget. 

Well, besides meeting and mentoring Miles, Peter thought with a fond smile.

“So what’s it like suddenly being one of the most famous public figures in the world? Do you think you’re going to like, get to be in Wheaties commercials now? ‘Cause that’d be so cool!”

Peter huffs out a laugh. “No commercials, at least not yet. And to tell you the truth kid, it mostly sucks-- and especially with senses like ours. I understand now why Tony wore sunglasses all the time… the camera flashes can give you a serious headache if you’re not careful.” He turns back to the boxes, before adding over his shoulder, “Which, by the way, is just one of many reasons I’m glad you’re sticking out of the spotlight for now.”

Peter can hear the hesitation in Miles’ tone when he says, “Yeah, so about my secret identity…”

Peter whips around, eyes wide. “What? Did someone--”

“No! Nobody knows, I swear,” Miles interrupts quickly, shaking his head back and forth before biting his lip. “Well, nobody I didn’t  _ want _ to know… I uh. I actually told my parents.”

Peter stares for a few seconds, before walking over to the couch - one of the last pieces of furniture left in the place - and sitting down, beckoning Miles to take a seat next to him. “You know I would have done that with you, kiddo, right?”

Miles nods, eyes full of regret. “I know, Mr. P. I didn’t really plan to tell them on my own, but I found them watching a news bulletin about you and Dad was saying all these awful things and I couldn’t just keep quiet and the truth came out before I could--”

“Miles, I’m not mad,” Peter says, giving him a soft smile so the kid would know he was being sincere. “In fact, I’m the opposite of mad-- I’m really proud of you. That must have taken a lot of bravery.”

Miles gives him a small smile, before looking worried again.

“My dad was really angry, at first,” Miles says quietly. “They made me tell them everything starting at the very beginning when I first got bit up until we got Fisk and Gobby. Then we had a really long talk about lying and taking big risks and me still being a teenager and all that. I was grounded for two weeks while they kept the suit.”

Peter nods. “Well, that seems more than fair, all things considered. May grounded me for a month when she found out, though in honesty I think that was mostly so she had time to come to terms with me being Spider-Man.”

“Yeah,” Miles agrees. “I think that was a big part of it. I was fully expecting them to tell me at the end of the two weeks that I couldn’t do it anymore-- that they were taking away the suit for good. But when we all talked again, and they told me that they’d spoken a lot with Karen, and she’d shown them some recordings and explained all the safety protocols you created and stuff, which I think helped. Then Dad asked if I would show him what happened when my uncle died, and well… that was kinda tough.”

Peter nods again, throat working. It’s hard to say the next words, but he manages to croak them out somehow. “So uh, I guess they probably don’t want me being around you anymore.”

“Actually they were wondering if you and Mrs. P would come over for dinner sometime this week.”

Peter glanced up, surprised. “Really? I mean, of course-- I would love that, underoos. Michelle, too.”

“Are you sure?” Miles asks, squinting at him. “It’ll probably get… _ intense _ . They have a lot of questions about not just Spider-Man but like, _ you _ -you. And they want - to quote my dad -  _ damn good reasons _ for why you thought it was okay to train me and build me a suit without their consent.”

“Also more than fair,” Peter says, still reeling from the fact that he wasn’t being immediately banished from coming within 500 feet of Miles for the foreseeable future. 

It had been bad enough for May to work through when she first found out-- he couldn’t imagine how it had been for Miles’ parents. Knowing the same kid they saw held at gunpoint on national television was in fact their sweet, cherished only child. 

“I’ll answer whatever they want me to, kid. And now they’re in the know, just so we’re clear-- their rules come first, okay? What they say goes. Got it?”

“Got it,” Miles confirms, giving Peter his first real smile since he arrived. “So um, I noticed Captain America was at the press conference you guys had, but way in the back behind the podium. Does that mean you’re like, an Avenger now?”

Peter chuckles, rubbing at his face. “Funny you should ask, kiddo. Cap was at the press conference mostly to show that the Avengers support Spider-Man  _ and  _ Peter Parker. But I spoke with him yesterday about joining up at least part-time and he seems very keen about it, so I suppose the answer is - if not yes - then almost, anyway.”

If anything Miles’ grin grows wider. “That is  _ so _ cool, Mr. P! And maybe I can tag along for--”

“Don’t even bother finishing that sentence, underoos,” Peter says pointedly. “You’re staying the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man for now. You’ll be in charge of watching after the city, which is still plenty of responsibility.” 

_ Plenty of chances for you to give me future heart attacks _ , he thinks but doesn’t add. 

Miles raises his eyebrows. “But Mr. P, what about you? That’s like, what you do all the time and--”

Peter raises his eyebrows right back. “Kid, I’m going to be CEO of a giant corporation on top of being an Avenger. I won’t have time to patrol like I used to, but that’s alright-- that’s where you come in.”

Miles’ eyes go wide. “You-- you really think I’m ready?”

Peter nods to himself. “I mean, again, it’ll depend on what your parents ultimately decide, and the Baby Monitor and Screw the Pooch Protocols aren’t going away any time soon, but… yeah. I do, kid.”

Miles looks away, bashful, before giving Peter another one of his big smiles. “Thanks, Mr. P. That’s… that’s really cool, man.”

Peter wraps an arm around Miles’ shoulders and gives him a quick, tight squeeze. “You earned it when you took down Fisk, underoos. Just make sure you call me at the first sign of real trouble. If you don’t Karen will, but I’d rather hear from you first. Understood?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Miles grouses, but he stays burrowed into Peter’s side. “I  _ know _ , Mr. P. I’m not exactly new at this, y’know-- I’ve been doing it for  _ months _ .”

“Oh well then, my bad. You’re _ obviously _ a seasoned veteran,” Peter says, rolling his eyes. But he doesn’t pull away either.

“So,” Miles says, clearing his throat, “I know you’re busy with packing and stuff, but I was thinking maybe we could go out for a swing, just for fun?”

Peter unwraps his arm from around Miles’ shoulders, and the kid immediately looks away. “Yeah, that was stupid to even ask, you’re obviously super busy and Mrs. P is probably waiting for you, and--”

“Underoos.”

Miles looks back at Peter just in time to see the nanites finish wrapping themselves around him, the suit complete. 

“I’ve always got time for a short trip around the city with you, kiddo.”

Less than thirty seconds later and the two of them are soaring over the streets, heading towards Queensboro Bridge.

As they cross into Manhattan, Peter turns his gaze toward Stark Tower. Peter thinks again about what the older Tony had said, about how Peter had fulfilled precisely  _ shit _ \-- thinks about how he balked at that before. 

But now, thinking how proud of him May had looked before she drifted away one last time… how the transition to Stark Industries CEO was public… how Spider-Man would soon be an Avenger in more than just distant name… how he was finally going to meet Miles’ parents at their invitation and would hopefully formalize the teen’s internship… how he had felt  _ excited _ at the prospect of having a kid with Michelle…

Maybe Tony had a point, Peter could admit now. A pretty damn good point, in fact. 

Peter watches from behind as Miles does flips between swings, whooping with excitement. He does a few himself, just for the hell of it.

_ “Where do you want to go next, Mr. P?”  _ Miles asks him.

Peter smiles to himself, still thinking about fate-- about destiny. About how everything up until now - the loss, the pain, the fear, but also the joy, the excitement, the happy coincidences - had led to this  _ exact  _ moment: Peter flying through Manhattan, just for fun, with his protege close by. 

A feeling of peace settles over him, and he shakes his head, so awed and humbled and grateful in the face of it.

This new feeling won't last forever, Peter knows. But that was okay, because he's no longer alone, whether in  _ or _ out of his own head. Good things were still coming, and certainly some bad-- but Peter is ready to  _ live. _ No matter what happens, Peter knows from now on-- he would face the future unafraid.

_ “Mr. P?” _ Miles prompts, bringing Peter back to the present. He lets go of one web, going weightless for a few seconds before shooting another, gravity and momentum moving him onward. 

“Doesn’t matter to me, underoos. I’m all in for the journey either way.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to scream at us. Kudos & comments are always appreciated :)


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